


Heaven Ain't Close In a Place Like This

by Heavenlyfool



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: 16-Year-Old Harry Styles, 18-Year-Old Louis Tomlinson, Alcohol, Alternate Universe - Actors, Alternate Universe - Hollywood, Angst, Blowjobs, Crying, Drugs, Enemies to Lovers, Go easy on harry, Heavy Angst, Liam is their handler, Like so much self hatred, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Minor Violence, Niall is honestly chill, Past Abuse, Self-Hatred, Sexual Tension, Sexual Violence, Slow Burn, Smut but like they don't like each other, Underage Drinking, Versatile Harry, larry stylinson - Freeform, there's so much Larry before there's actually Larry, versatile louis
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-04
Updated: 2021-02-28
Packaged: 2021-02-28 16:41:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 27
Words: 128,418
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23470366
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Heavenlyfool/pseuds/Heavenlyfool
Summary: Louis Tomlinson, photographer and small town boy, walks the same streets every day waiting for his big break.He just didn't think it would come in the form of moving across the globe to photograph the film industry's current darling, Harry Styles, a 16 year old child star who may not be quite as much the boy next door as the eyes of Hollywood want him to be.Or the one where Harry is a broken boy masquerading behind a mask of fame and fortune and Louis is the only one who can see that he's drowning
Relationships: Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson, Zayn Malik/Liam Payne
Comments: 167
Kudos: 220





	1. Chapter 1

Louis Tomlinson was only fifteen when he snapped the picture that would change his life. It wasn't even intentional, not for lucrative reasons. He didn't want to profit from it, he just wanted to be able to go home and tell his family he'd seen famed singer Tasha Romero walking down the street of his hometown. By no means was he trying to capture anything that would spark conversation, it was sheer fate that he would accidentally snap the first picture that revealed Romero's million dollar baby bump, confirming her massively speculated pregnancy. One of his best mates insisted that he contact a tabloid company and try to sell the picture. ‘They pay top dollar for that shit, Lou’.  
Louis didn't want to at first, it wasn’t worth it, and well, his mum thought it was just ridiculous, all this attention put into some fake, glossy Hollywood world, she hated it.

And for good reason, Louis could agree, but when he made the decision to sell off the image to a giant magazine corp and he got his first check, well... Hollywood didn't seem so bad anymore.

So Louis started from there, that one accidental shot kick-starting his entire career. It started off small, a way to get extra cash and help his Mum out. After all there was only one of her, and five kids to feed and clothe. Louis would linger around, occasionally getting a good picture of somebody who was someone (nothing close to the original Tasha Romero picture, but he'd take what he could get)  
Louis was sharp and a quick learner though, and pretty soon he was picking up on the best paparazzi feeding grounds, the ones that not so many people knew about so the opportunities were higher and the competition less. He'd cut classes in school sometimes to rush somewhere where he knew something was happening. A singer arriving for a doctor's appointment. A higher-up actor leaving their hotel for an awards show, things like that, pictures people want.

Louis, being fairly sociable and charming (if he may say so himself) found it pretty easy to make connections, worm out secrets and tricks from hardened paps, tricks that they don't give away for nothing, but Louis prided himself on the fact that he had a boyish sort of charisma about him that he could flip on like a switch and entrap the hearts of others.

And let's be real, Louis thinks his smile is pretty killer too. When he wants it to be.

So all in all, about six months after the Tasha Romero incident, Louis had it good. He was selling off his pictures every other day, making a couple hundred a week, sometimes more, sometimes less depending on how good his shots turned out. He had friends in the paparazzi world (although he preferred to call it freelance photography) and he felt like something had been spurred in him by this whole situation. He liked taking pictures. Never thought himself the artsy or creative type, but the longer he spent lingering around buildings and fiddling with cameras, the more he realized he enjoyed it. He thought maybe one day he could step up his game a bit. Get off the streets and start doing real genuine work.

Not to diss himself and other paparazzos, but he really was curious what the honest and creative side of photography would be like, real photography.

So in his (limited) spare time, he'd march down to a couple different film and media studios in his town and start rooting around, doing what he could to see about becoming an intern or a volunteer or anybody who could help out and learn a thing or two while doing it. Plus having access to top notch equipment wouldn't be a downside, that's for sure.

And that's how Louis Tomlinson got his toe in the door. That's also when he fell in love with the art of it all. Bumming around on street corners waiting for a B-list celebrity to possibly walk by suddenly didn't seem terribly appealing anymore, not when he could be studying light and shadows and framing and everything that makes a photograph something. Something you look twice at and wonder what was the driving force behind it. Not something you skim past in a tabloid. Louis was more than that.  
His mum thought so too. That was half the reason he threw himself into the professional side of photography so much. She always told him that you're better than that street work, Lou. If you have a passion, you should be using it for something impactful.

So you can imagine the kind of pride she had when Louis got a job as a paid photography assistant at a bonafide studio where he didn't have to deal under the table to some shady magazine for a picture he did semi-illegal things to obtain. His life as a questionable paparazzo was a thing of the past. Louis Tomlinson was legit now, and he had it made. Evening had a little office to himself - okay, so it was more like a glorified broom closet but still. It was his.

And it was these times in his life, Louis knows, that put him on the right track, artistically, creatively, but morally and philosophically too. Louis was well aware that living low income, single mum, falling on hard times routinely gave him a high chance at becoming some good for nothing bum that lounged around the city pleading for a cigarette and the cash in your wallet, but his job at the studio drew him away from that. Having mentors, and outside influence made all the difference. He thrived under the guidance and learned how to finetune his style and find his footing as his own artist.

He finished up school with his hands full, and many nicknames from his peers pinned to his back. Some of them were distasteful, but most of them he didn't mind. 'art gay' was an unfamiliar concept to him, but once Stan explained the term, Louis actually didn't mind being stuck with the title. Maybe he kind of liked it, actually. The idea of being that sort of indie, edgy, creative kid who always toted a camera around and jotted down their thoughts in the small notebook that was always on them. If that was his aesthetic, Louis could be doing worse.

Besides, everyone at school knew he was gay anyways.

It was right around the time he graduated that Louis started entering photography competitions. Just little small ones, and gradually working his way higher. He didn't dare shoot too high too fast and ruin his own chances at climbing the fragile and ever shifting ladder of artistic success. Every now and then he'd win second or third place, more often than not, he'd just end up in Honorable Mentions, which was lovely and flattering, but not up to the standards Louis held himself to. It was just twice out of probably forty five competitions he entered that he took first place, got a cash prize and his pictures in a magazine - a nice one, too, not some cheap tabloid. Both magazines sent him letters dubbing him "promising young talent" and saying they'd be "sure to keep him in mind as a future collaborator" but Louis was pretty sure that's all just PR hype, because he didn't ever hear from them after that.

Doesn't matter though, because he was ever moving and open to new opportunities. His supervisor at the studio told him that was one of his best qualities. His adaptability and eagerness to absorb information. Louis was pretty sure all of that happened naturally because he doesn't even know how to intentionally be adaptable, whatever that even means in that context. To be fucking frank he just likes taking pictures and was that.

Was he young and full of potential and fucking good at what he did? Obviously. And well...that definitely didn’t hurt.  
\---

It’s 7pm and Louis Tomlinson is well aware he’s running late. He still needs to go grocery shopping, because he doubts his mum will be home early enough on a Wednesday to do it herself, and the girls have to eat something. Maybe they’ll just order in pizza, it’s been awhile since they did that and Louis is tired-- those who say arts are the soft option clearly haven’t operated a professional grade camera on a set for 11 hours. It’s simply not for the faint of heart. Louis’ shoulder aches and his fingers are stiff from gripping in the same position for hours on end. And his neck, don’t even ask. He’s too young to feel this sore, but he can’t look into the viewfinder without craning his neck, and this is what it gets him.  
The camera tripod is too fucking tall, he’s not even short. He’s not.

Despite his tormented body, Louis is pleased with the footage they shot today. Probably knocked out the main body of the short film that the studio Louis works at is producing. It’s nothing huge, a passion project that his supervisor is developing and wanted Louis on. Something about how ‘short films change your perspective, it’s a great way to break away from the usual beat you see in movies’. He favors photography, but videography has its moments too, so he doesn’t mind being on the crew.

Reaching his car, Louis cracks his neck before sliding into the driver’s seat. After all, he doesn’t want to cramp while he’s driving, that’d just be a safety hazard.  
Besides, if he perished in a car crash on the way home, nobody would be able to go get pizza for his little sisters.  
Luckily, he gets home without a hitch, doesn’t come close to death even once, which is actually unusual because he’s a terrible driver. (Look, he’s 90% self taught, alright? He’s doing his best. Louis is just glad he passed his test at 17)  
He pulls onto the curb in front of his house, leaving the driveway for his mum when she gets home and cuts the engine before going inside.  
He’s barely even crossed the threshold when a screeching ball of limbs comes flying at him and hits him hard in his middle, making him groan.

“Lou!” the ball of limbs-- his sister-- crushes her arms around his waist, immobilizing him. She looks up with enthusiasm, smile so bright it’s almost aggressive. “You won’t _believe_ what happened.”

“I won’t do anything ever again if you suffocate me, Fizz,” Louis wheezes, attempting to pry her little arms away, but she holds tight.

“I’m serious, Lou, this is a big thing,” Fizzy tells him, eyes going solemn as she looks up at him.

“Alright, good big or bad big?” Louis asks, giving in, knowing he can’t escape her grip until she’s told him whatever she has to share. He wiggles her arms off of him and scoops her up, taking her into the kitchen with him. Fizzy’s ten, but she’s still small enough that Louis can toss her around.

“You’re going to want to sit down for this one,” Lottie informs him, and she appears from the stairwell, holding her school work and an envelope in the other.

Louis frowns. It’s one thing for Felicite to be in a tizzy, but if Lottie is in on it too, there may actually be some weight to it.

He sets Fizzy down on the kitchen table slowly. “Alright, what are you two on about, then?” he asks suspiciously.

Lottie leans over and passes him the envelope in her hand. “You’ve got a letter.”

“A letter that you opened,” Louis observes distastefully. “It’s addressed to me.”

“Mum says sometimes you have to snoop to make sure your kids are keeping their noses clean,” Lottie tells him defensively. “It’s about being a good parent.”

"You’re not bloody well my parent though, are you?” he presses, only half serious about it.  
Lottie rolls her eyes. “Would you just read it instead of picking a fight?”

Beside him, Fizzy starts kicking her legs in excitement. “Yes! Just read it, Lou, out loud so I can hear it again.”

With more curiosity than he cares to admit, Louis shakes the letter out of its sleeve and unfolds it, beginning to read in a steady voice.

Dear Mr. Tomlinson  
Greetings from the Hol-Tech team, we hope this letter finds you well. Your keen interest and promising talent has come to our attention as we search for young photographers and collaborators to join our new project, due to begin production in Los Angeles next month. Upon reviewing your work and resume at the recommendation of one of our partnering magazines, we have made the decision to extend a job offer to you as content assistant and personal photographer to Mr. Harry Styles as we tape a comprehensive documentary about his life as Hollywood’s newest darling, as well as several exclusive photoshoots, and behind the scenes footage. We look forward to hearing from you by the end of the week, at which point we will further discuss the position.

Best wishes  
Raymond Thomas, Head of Production at Hol-Tech studios.

Louis looks up, shocked, taking in his sister’s pleased faces. Well, Lottie is pleased, Fizzy is damn near ecstatic.

"Is this real?” he demands. “You guys didn’t write this to prank me?”

“Swear on my life,” Lottie promises. “I’ve looked up the studio and the email and number attached and everything, just to be sure, Lou, I promise. They’re legit, got loads of film credits and awards and things. And you’ve just gotten a job with them.”

“I don’t believe it,” Louis says faintly, running his hands through his hair. “A job-- a job with a major American studio, it’s--”

“Harry Styles!” Fizzy screeches suddenly, the words bursting from her as if she can’t physically contain them anymore. “You got a job with Harry Styles” By the end, her voice drops to an awed whisper.

“Yeah, who the hell is Harry Styles anyway?” Louis asks, glancing back down at the name on paper.

Felicite looks so taken aback, he might have slapped her.

“Wow, Lou, you don’t spend enough time at home anymore.” Lottie shakes her head. “Harry Styles is only Fizzy’s one true love.”

“Your what?” He whips his head around to look at his little sister; Fizzy is far too young to be in love with anybody.

The little girl shakes her head, sending dark hair flying about her shoulders. “He’s on the show I love, Louis, the one about the boy who writes songs with his best friend and stuff, and he plays guitar and he’s so so dreamy and good looking,” Fizzy squinches up her face as if thinking of this Harry kid and all his merits is causing her physical pain.

Louis raises his eyebrows. “Is it that shit one you’re always watching before school where they’re constantly lip syncing to peppy tween ballads?”

Lottie nods her head, looking pained, and Fizzy wrinkles her nose. "He can really sing, I bet you, Lou."

Louis shakes his head. "Nobody in Hollywood can sing, Fizz, it's all a lie."

The younger girl slides off the counter. "But you're going to go find out, aren't you?" She wraps her arms around his waist again, looking up at Louis with pleading eyes. Louis sighs, smoothing her hair back. He wants to say yes, of course, with enthusiasm and make her dreams come true in a second but he just...he can't.

"I don't know, Fizz, Los Angeles, that's so far away. Who would help Mum out? Am I just supposed to leave all my responsibilities here? Wouldn't you miss me?"

"I honestly don't care, if you're going to be texting us pictures of Harry Styles," Fizzy says frankly and Louis frowns, wounded.

"Okay, I'd miss you," she amends. "But I know you'll be friends with Harry, best friends probably, you won't even have time to miss us."

Louis snorts at the image of him and some shaggy haired glitzy little preteen high fiving and having a laugh together. "I doubt it, he's probably like, twelve."

"He's sixteen," Fizzy defends. "And a half."

"A child," Louis shrugs. "I'm too old for little Disney kids."

"But I'm only ten and you love me most of all, right Lou?" Fizzy asks pouting, hugging him against her crushingly tight again.

"Course, you and Lots and the twins are my best girls forever, but it's different with friends then it is siblings, love."

"Fine, it's okay if you're not friends, just send me pictures of his house," Fizzy decides.

Lottie makes a face, looking ashamed. "Felicite, that is so weird."

"Don't lie, Dot Dot, you want it too. I want Louis to film a house tour, just not his house, Harry's."

Louis covers his little sister's mouth, making her giggle. "Okay, that's enough from you, love, you've reached your word limit for today."

"You can't stop me!" She shouts through Louis fingers, muffled. "I know what I want and I'll always be here!"

At that moment, the kitchen door opens and Louis' mum steps in, holding a bag of groceries in on hand and both the twins wrists in the other. Louis quickly removes his hand from over Fizzy's mouth and wipes it on his jeans, hoping his mother doesn't question the situation. "Mum! You're home early. And you went grocery shopping!"

Jay smiles, looking vaguely confused and maybe a little concerned (which is justified). "Hi poppets, I've just brought the girls from Dad's' house, what's going on?"

"Louis got a job! A fancy one!" Fizzy announces to the room, eyes alight as she breaks away from Louis finally.

Louis' mum raises her brow, glancing at him. "Lou? What's happened with that?"

Louis combs his fingers through his hair, wishing Fizzy had held her tongue on announcing that just now. He would have preferred to talk about this with just his Mum, and not right this moment.

"Yeah, ehm, I've been offered a job with a big studio, called Hol-Tech. It's...big," he finishes lamely.

"It's huge, Mummy," Fizzy bubbles, pushing past Lottie, who exchanges a glance with Louis that says 'you know how Fizz is, she'll never shut up'.

Louis shakes his head. There's no such thing as privacy with four sisters, it's not like he's surprised at this point. "It's with Harry Styles, Mum!" Fizzy tells her.

Jay really pauses at this, setting the grocery bag down on the counter. "Harry Styles? The boy on TV that you like, Fizz?"

"See?" Fizzy demands, spinning on her heel to look at Louis accusingly. "Mum knows who he is!"

Louis shrugs. It's not as if he's got all this spare time to lounge around and memorize all the prissy child stars of the world.

"You've gotten a job with him?" Louis' mum presses. "Really?"

"Personal photographer," Louis sinks onto one of the barstools at the kitchen table. He might as well spill everything now, before Fizzy steals the rest of his moment. "They're filming some documentary special about him or something, I dunno. I guess I'm just supposed to follow him around and capture photos of his whole glorious life."

"Lou!" Jay exclaims. "That's amazing, Poppet, you must be so pleased, darling, aren't you?"

Louis nods, because he is, he'd be stupid not to be, but part of him can't wrap itself around the Los Angeles factor and come to terms with it. It's just so so far away. He's never been that far away from his family in his entire life, doesn't even really like overnights if we're being honest.

"It's in Los Angeles, Mum," Louis says softly. "I'd have to move there."

Daisy pops her head up from under the table where she's sitting and eating the snack Jay gave her. She and Phoebe always sit under the table, Louis has no idea why.

"Los Angeles?" Daisy demands. "The big sunny one? That's far away, Lou, you can't."

Annnd, yeah. This is exactly why Louis wanted to have this conversation with his mum in private. The guilt is already bad enough without his baby sister's doe eyes staring at him like he's stolen her favorite plushie and tossed it out.

For a second, Jay looks surprised, but then her expression smoothes out. "I suppose you'll need new luggage then, my love?"

Louis frowns, his heart sinking. Somehow, it would be easier if his mum tried to put up a fight and convince him not to go. Her understanding nature and quiet support only makes him feel even more guilty. Guilty for leaving her. "Mum, I...I don't have to, you know? I can stay and help with the girls and the money and-"

"Don't be silly," Jay cuts over him, gentle but insistent. "You're not letting a big chance like this slip away because of me, Lou, darling. This could make all the difference in your career, you have to take these opportunities when you get them, my love."

"But you, and the girls," Louis protests weakly. "I've never been so far away from you."

"You have to," Fizzy whines, clinging to Louis once more. "I'll never forgive you if you don't."

"Lou," Lottie raises her eyebrows. "Are you trying to convince us that this is a good idea, or yourself?"

Louis prickles at this. Of course he wants to go, this is everything he's ever wanted. It's just that...he never thought it would happen, and now that it's here, so unexpectedly, maybe it's a little daunting. Maybe it's more than a little daunting, maybe Louis is petrified and he doesn't know how to say that he's afraid of being lonely in a strange country and not having his family to fall back on. Maybe Louis just wants his mum to say no, and that's final and he'll have a reason to decline the offer.

Jay sets down the empty grocery bag and comes over to her only son, cupping his face in her gentle hands and Louis wishes she wouldn't, because it's just another reminder of all that he'd be leaving behind.

"Lou, my sweet boy, I am in no way shape or form going to encourage you not to go, or ask you to stay here for me. I can manage just fine, but, that being said...if it's too much, poppet, I understand that too. When I was your age I wouldn't have been nearly brave enough to do such a thing. I'll let you have the final decision, alright?"

Louis nods, putting his hands on top of hers. His mother's hands are always so much warmer than his perpetually chilled ones. "Okay," he whispers.

"I'm so proud of you either way, so proud, you'll never know."

"Thanks, Mum," he replies, voice feeling a bit thick. He doesn't need to cry, there's no reason for it. He blinks back any moisture in his eyes and takes a deep breath. He has a week before anything needs to be decided, that's long enough. That's enough time to just sit tonight and appreciate the warm glow of his family around him. Curse his mum for giving him such a happy childhood, it's impossible to leave now. He can't imagine not waking up and coming home to them. They're all he has.

But you can have more, a soft, insistent voice in the back of his head chimes in. You can have them and more, you can try your hand in Los Angeles without relocating there. You can come home if it's too much. But what you can't do is live out your entire life in the same small town raising your sisters.

Yes, there's more to be had than that, Louis thinks. More he wants to see and do. Maybe not quite so far as LA though.

But he won't decide tonight. No, he isn't thinking about leaving tonight. Louis shakes his head, shoving aside all thoughts of life changing decisions and flights out of the country.  
He smiles brightly at his mother.

"Forget about dinner, what do you say to pizza and movies tonight, Mum?"


	2. Chapter 2

To whom it may concern-

I am pleased to say that I’m able to formally accept the offered position with your team, and would like to hear more about the position-

No, no, no. Louis hits backspace on his laptop several times, annoyed. He can’t use the word ‘position’ again in such close proximity to the last one, it looks poorly worded. Probably because it is poorly worded. Louis leans back and groans. Writing is so far out of his area of expertise, and trying to send this acceptance letter is only proving that to him once more.

He should just give up, really, and ignore the job offer entirely. Pretend it went to the wrong address and he never saw it at all.

No. He can’t. This is his big break and he needs to tilt his chin up and have a better attitude about it, god damn it.

It took five whole days, but after many heated internal debates, encouraging talks from his mother, and threats for beheading from his mates and Fizzy, Louis made the decision to take the job in LA. Most of it boiled down to two things: 1) his main concern in life is his family, and taking a big job like this could be the first step in becoming financially stable enough to support all of them. 2) Louis is fucking excited at the thought of being on a real film set in a big city with nothing to hold him back and the entire world at his fingertips.

So he’s here, now, dragging himself through the mud trying to write this damn response to the job offer.

It’s nearly 9pm, and Louis is dangling upside down from his bed, trying to shake some thoughts into his brain when the door into his bedroom creaks open and he sees small feet patter in. Louis lifts his head reluctantly and finds his little sister gazing at him, clutching something glittery in her petite hands.

Louis sighs, sitting up and rubbing his knuckles on his cheek. He should probably shave, he’s looking a little ‘crackhead on the side of the street’ these days. Where some people are heroin chic, Louis is more of a meth nutjob mess.

“What’s up, Dais?”

“Just seeing you,” Daisy says in her breathy soft voice. “Mummy made dinner, you missed it.”

“I know, love, I’m trying to get some work done up here so I can send this in.”

“Mummy said you’re writing a letter.”

Hardly, Louis thinks. Attempting and failing miserably more like. But he doesn’t need to dishearten Daisy like that.

“Yeah, that I am. Slow work,” he smiles lopsidedly at his sister. She crawls up on the bed and wiggles into Louis’ lap. Daisy is always good for cuddles, which Louis appreciates. Some people just don’t appreciate the value of a good hug and Louis finds that to be a small tragedy.

Or maybe he’s just lonely and needs a boyfriend already.

“I brought you something,” Daisy offers sweetly, and Louis pulls himself from his self pitying thoughts to pay proper attention to her. “Yeah?”

“Yeah, my glittery slime. It’s called ‘Thinking Putty’, see?” she asks, sounding the words out from the label carefully. “And it’s shiny. Maybe it’ll help with your letter, do you think?”

Louis takes the little plastic cup of putty from her outheld hands, nose scrunching with a smile. “Yeah, I reckon this might do the trick, Dais, good thinking.”

The little girl preens under his praise. “You can keep it if you want,” she suggests. “Even when you go to Los Angeles.”

Louis likes the way she says it, like ‘Los Angee-lees’ in her tiny little voice. He can’t believe that when he leaves, he won’t hear her talk every day. The very thought of it seems wrong.

“Nah, Daisy-girl, when I leave, you keep it for me. And when you squish of it, think of me.”

Daisy giggles at this, but falls quiet again quickly. She looks up at him, and her eyes make Louis’ heart heavy. Those large, doe-like eyes seem to hold all the love in the world for him. Daisy lifts her hands up to his face and looks at him for a long minute, serious, always so serious for such a little girl.

“Are you really going, Lou?”

“Yeah, love,” Louis tells her softly.

Daisy nods, lowering her eyes and wrapping around him for a tight hug. “I’ll miss you so much.”

“I’ll miss you too,” Louis says thickly, feeling the sting of oncoming tears in his eyes.

“I’ll miss your games and when we get pizza and all of the tickles for me and Pheebs, and when you come home from work and smell weird from cleaning all the cameras after."

Louis has to laugh at that. "I'll leave one of my dirty shirts here then, if you're that weird."

"It's not the same as having you, Louis."

"I'll call you every day," Louis promises, feeling achingly guilty for leaving already. "Video chat, so you can see my face."

"What if you get famous in Los Angeles and forget about us?"

"Dais, that's never gonna happen, ever,” Louis assures here. “If I got famous it wouldn't be for a long long time. And no matter what I'd never forget about you. I'll dress you up and you'll be my date to all the parties."

"And Phoebe and Dot and Fizzy too? And Mummy?"

"Of course, all of you together. My best girls."

"Promise?"

"I promise, Daisy. Pinky swear."

Daisy seems satisfied with that, and pecks his cheek before disentangling their limbs and sliding off the bed. She slips to the door, pausing before she leaves. "Oh, Mummy says you should come eat, even if you're busy. She's put a plate out for you."

"Thanks Dais, tell her I'm coming."

He watches Daisy leave the room and shut the door carefully behind her. Louis supposes he should get up and go eat something, he doubts he'll get much further on this cursed letter tonight anyways.

\---

“Louis! Lou! Louis Tomlinson!”

Louis’s mother’s voice breaks the morning quiet and pulls him out of his sleep roughly. He sits up, somewhat alarmed and throws the covers back, racing to the door and leaning over the bannister to peer down at his mum. “What is it?”

“Your phone, love, you left it on the table last night and it’s already rung through twice, you’d better come answer, what if they’re with your new job?”

Louis ducks back into his bedroom long enough only to throw a pair of sweatpants over his boxers and then jogs down the stairs, stumbling down the bottom few stairs in an unbecoming sort of way. He barely greets his mum at all as he snatches the phone from her offering hand and skids into the laundry room, shutting the door behind him to avoid the disturbance and prying ears of his sisters. Louis clears his throat anxiously before answering.  
“Hello?”

“Hello? Hi, I’m trying to reach Louis Tomlinson?” A cool, friendly female voice floats into his ear and Louis nods for a second, forgetting he can’t be seen.

“This is he-him. This is Louis.”

“Good morning, Louis, my name is Dani Watson, I’m an assistant manager at Hol-Tech, I’m calling about the offered position."

"Great!" Louis is painfully aware how high and squeaky his voice has gone, like a little child trying to come off as likeable as possible. "Wonderful, um, I'm all ears."  
He's so awkward, Louis is so awkward and he knows it.

"Alright, well, now that I have you here, I want to start off by congratulating you, you officially have the position, we'll just need your consent that you submit to a background check and for us to contact your references."

"Of course! Yeah, whatever you need," Louis says, hoping he comes off as friendly and agreeable, not desperate.

"Great, let me just get my notes here…" there's some muffled shuffling on the other end of the call, and Dani clears her throat. "Okay, so I'm supposed to go over the basics with you here - obviously, once you arrive in LA, you'll be given clear instructions, a schedule, so on and so forth, but I just want to cover some quick things. Firstly, production begins on September third, but we'd like you to be there on the first, so you can settle in. Airfare is entirely paid for, you don't have to worry about travel or accommodations or anything like that."

September first isn't even two weeks away, Louis realizes with a strange chill down his spine. That's not very much time to pack everything he needs, pause his life here, say goodbye to his family and leave.

He nods, once again forgetting nobody can see him. "Okay, yeah, that sounds good."  
A lie. That didn't sound that good.

"You'll be staying in Mr. Styles’ home in Hollywood Hills…"

Louis frowns at this. He'll be living with the kid? That seems unorthodox, right? Is that what photographers do? Not to mention, it would just be awkward, living with someone you don't know.

"... You'll have the West wing to yourself," Dani continues smoothly. "So plenty of space and privacy."

Wing? West wing? This kid's house has wings? Did he miss the part where this dude was a bajillionaire?

"Because of the more personal angle of the projects we're taking on, we wanted a live in photographer. Think something along the lines of 'a day in the life of Harry Styles' something that makes him seem relatable, warm, welcoming, like how a friend would view him. In this case, as the photographer, you're the friend. You're capturing the insider moments and you're framing it in an appealing light."

Louis resists the urge to roll his eyes. This all sounds so very... Hollywood. He knows Hollywood is staged, but this is unreal.

"Harry's personal team requested someone younger, his age, which made you an excellent candidate. They wanted someone who shares his youthful perspective and can get along with him in that aspect. He's quite shy, and prefers people his own age."

Oh boy, a glorified babysitter. Just what Louis wants to be. "Sounds lovely," he grits out with a smile. "I'll look forward to meeting him then."

"Fantastic! That’s all that covered, then. Are there any questions I can help you with? Anything you'd like to know before we finalize the hiring process?"

There's loads of things he'd like to know, yes, like how many hours a day does he have to spend with this kid? And how big is his wing of the house? And probably am I really just being hired to nanny a Disney darling?

Those probably aren't very professional questions though, so Louis bites his tongue. "No, all good here I think."

"Excellent!" Dani cheers. "Hol-Tech is very excited to work with you, Mr. Tomlinson."

"Likewise," he agrees, which is pretty much the first genuine thing he's said this entire conversation.

"Don't hesitate to reach out to me if you have any questions at all, and we'll be in touch soon about flights and all of that, alright?"

"Sounds great, thanks."

"And until then, have a great one and take care of yourself."

"You as well," Louis says amicably. "Bye now."

He presses end call and sets down the phone, many thoughts swirling around on the new developments of this job situation.

He'll be living in a mansion in Hollywood so...that's new. Fizzy will probably just about die when she learns that her own brother will be roommates with her celebrity boy crush.

Louis just hopes this Harry boy will prove to be an agreeable individual, especially since they're supposed to be fake best friends or something now. If it turns out he's a spoiled rich bitch about everything, Louis really doesn't know what he'll do. He supposes he could just take off, worst case scenario. Unless they make him sign some weird contracts that keep him from leaving.

Note to self, Louis thinks, don't sign sketchy contracts that make me a hostage.

Yes, as long as he avoids that, he should be just fine.

\---

“Lou!” Felicite’s high voice bubbles as soon as Louis walks through the door. “C’mere, Louis, come sit.”

Louis slings his bag over the hook on the basement door and slouches into the living room, once again sore from his day at work. His last day of work, actually. Saying goodbye to all of his coworkers and supervisors was harder than Louis had anticipated. He hadn’t realized how much of a support system they had become to him over the past year and a half. He’ll surely miss them all during his time abroad.  
“What is it, Fizz?” Louis inquires, bracing his hands behind himself to try and pop his back.

“Watch this with me,” Fizzy pats the couch cushion next to her.

“What're you watching, then?”

Fizzy’s mouth quirks into a cheeky smile. “Harry Styles. It’s his show, come see him.”

Louis groans inwardly. He’s pretty sure he’ll be seeing enough of Harry Styles here soon without sitting down and watching a cringey episode of his TV show. Besides, he’s tired and still has so much to do. “Fizz, I still have to pack and...you know, I’m busy.”

Louis’s sister pouts, actually pooching out her bottom lip as if she’s going to cry. “Lou, you have to make time. You’ve never ever ever seen the show, it’s like research you need to do. And it’s my very favorite, I want you to watch it with me before you leave. You’re running out of time to spend with us, Lou, don’t be mean.”

“I’m not being mean,” Louis replies, stung. “I just have loads to do…” he trails off, catching sight of Fizzy’s pleading eyes. Ugh, he’s got no backbone whatsoever. “Okay fine, one episode,” Louis gives in, crossing the room to join his sister on the couch. “Then no more nagging, alright?”

“Deal!” Fizzy clasps her hands together and snuggles up next to him. Onscreen an upbeat intro jingle plays, while colorful graphics splash over the scene.

Harry Styles as Luke. Zayn Malik as Charlie. Featuring Niall Horan as Finley Woods.

Three boys run onto the screen with the logo of the show dancing behind them, all of them forming a clumsy line and linking arms, laughing like they haven’t a care in the world bigger than what skinny jeans they should wear today and if they’re running out of hair gel. Louis scans all three of them, taking in their appearances. On the far left, a tall boy with wavy brown hair swept across his forehead in a carefully styled wave. His wide smile and green eyes are appealing in a juvenile, charming good boy kind of way. On his left side is a delicate sprite of a boy, built like a fairy, with dark hair and darker eyes that match his caramel skin. At the end of the line is quite possibly the polar opposite of the previous boy, pale and blonde, slightly stockier than the rest. Louis thinks the last boy looks like the kind of person you’d want to be friends with. He wonders somewhat hopefully if that’s Harry.

“Harry’s the one on the left,” Fizzy says, as if reading his mind. “With the glorious hair. Isn’t be beautiful?”

Louis cocks his head, doing a double take now that he knows which on Harry is. He’s alright, Louis decides, but in a slightly plastic way. Like his personality doesn’t extend further than coiffed hair and playing the guitar slung over his shoulder. “Eh,” he shrugs, which prompts Fizzy to poke him.

“You only like weird boys, I forgot.”

“Excuse you!” Louis protests. “That’s not true.”

“Yeah it is. You always like the ones who never like you back cause they’re all grumpy and moody. That’s why you never bring a boy home, see? You only don’t like Harry because he’s nice.”

Louis brushes past the first part of Fizzy’s comment, ignoring the factual points it makes. “He just seems nice, it’s all acting you know.”

“I bet he’s lovely in real life,” the little girl sighs wistfully. “You’re so lucky to be able to see him.”

“Yeah yeah, blessed and all,” Louis agrees, mostly to placate her. They don’t talk much for the rest of the episode, partially because Louis zones out halfway through. It’s an alright kids show, he supposes, but there’s absolutely no substance to it whatsoever. Some precocious little white boy and his edgy songwriter best friend take on the world while comic relief in the form of the blonde boy follows them around being all quirky and shit. Louis could probably write a better script in his sleep, and he doesn’t even know how to write.

Fizzy is entranced all the way through though, which isn’t a surprise, because she’s probably precisely the show’s intended audience. When the end credits roll, she pops up and looks at Louis. “See? Wasn’t it great?”

“Yeah, it was excellent,” Louis tells her, refusing to burst her bubble. “That Harry kid is really something.”

Felicite looks positively pleased. “I knew you’d love it. And now you get to go live it in real life and see everything happen and take pictures- oh, Lou, you’re so lucky.”

“Not too long, Fizz, and I’ll be on a plane headed there, snapping pictures to send to you and the girls, landing in sunny LA, probably shaking hands with Beyonce…”

“You’re gonna see Beyonce?” Fizzy demands, looking shocked, and Louis laughs.

“No, that part was a lie. Probably. But I’ll be there with an iced coffee living the highest of lives.”

“Can Mummy and the girls and I come visit when you’re famous?” Fizzy asks in a pouty voice, picking at a stray thread on the hem of Louis’ shirt.

“If I get rich and famous I’ll buy you all a big house there and fill it with lovely things so you’d be nearby and never have to be bored.”

“Oh, Louis, will you?”

“If, love, if,” Louis laughs. “There’s no telling what will happen while I’m there.”

“It’ll be lovely, because you’re lovely,” Fizzy pokes his tummy. “And everyone will love and adore you.”

“Thanks, Fizz,” Louis pulls her closer, hugging her to his side with one arm. “I hope so.”

The clock on the wall ticks behind them as they fall silent, and Louis can’t help but feel that each small tick is another reminder of how his time left with his family dwindles every second. Eighteen years he’s been here, and now he’s only got...Louis glances at the clock, doing the math in his head quickly.

43 hours to go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Helllooo I'm back at it with the posting.
> 
> The song for this chapter is "Plans" by Oh Wonder because Louis has a lot of, well, plans at this point in the story. 
> 
> We have to go through all the set up for the story before Harry shows up, but he's coming I promise. 
> 
> Stay safe and wash your hands
> 
> Xoxo Elle


	3. Chapter 3

Louis doesn’t want to cry again. In the past 24 hours alone he’s shed entirely too many tears to be appropriate for a grown adult. He’s not being sent off to the fucking Hunger Games for God’s sake, he’s going to float into his first class seat with a top notch airline and land tomorrow in the Sunshine State or whatever they call it. The Golden State? He’s sure he’ll be pampered and well taken care of every step of the way, so why does it feel like he’s being sent off to meet his untimely demise?

“You have all your bags and everything? And you remember what the suitcase looks like so you can pick it up from baggage claim?” Louis’s mum fusses over him once more, adjusting the straps of his backpack and straightening his hair. He feels somewhat like a four year old headed to their first day of preschool because of all her nit-picking, but he knows she only does it so she can have something to focus on besides the fact that her only son is flying thousands of miles away within the hour.

“I’ve got it all, Mum. Checked every box.”

“Oh Louis.”  
Jay looks absolutely overcome with emotion at everything, and crushes him in another tight hug. Maybe on a different day, under different circumstances he would have wiggled out of her overzealous grip, but today he knows that this is the last time he’ll be able to feel her touch for too long, so he allows himself to sink into it.

“We’ll miss you so much, poppet.”

“But not as much if you send lots and lots of pictures,” Fizzy adds, taking Louis’ hand. “Loads. Every day.”

“I’ll do my best,” Louis says with a laugh, swiping the back of his hand over his eyes to wipe away any tears that may be illegally manifesting there. “C’mere, girls,” Louis crouches and holds his arms out to the twins, who crowd around, hugging his head and shoulders.

“I don’t want you to go anymore, Lou, I think I changed my mind,” Phoebe whimpers, and Louis squeezes his eyes shut, hugging her tighter.

“I’ll be home before too long, I promise. It’ll go fast, Pheebs, you’ll see.”

He kisses both of the younger girls on the cheek, smoothing their hair back before standing. “And you all have to listen to Lottie while I’m gone, alright? She’s the oldest now, she’s in charge when Mum’s not home.”

“I’d rather have you,” Daisy says sulkily. “Dot makes me do her chores.”

“Well, she won’t anymore,” Louis says, casting a threateningly look at Lottie, who rolls her eyes, as usual. She’s the only one present now who’s semi got it together. It’s actually quite reassuring to see someone who isn’t weeping. Bless her twelve year old ‘holier-than-thou’ attitude.

“I’ll call her in the mornings and tell her to be a good babysitter, it’s the least I can do.”

“Whatever, Lou,” Lottie shakes her head, reaching out to engulf him in a hug. And, yeah, there she goes. Facade crumbling, she buries her face in his neck. “You’re bossy, but I’ll miss you.”

“You’re more bossy than I am,” Louis whispers in reply. “But I’ll miss you too.”

“Call every day?” Lottie asks, pulling away.

“As much as I can,” Louis promises, wiping his eyes once more. He really wishes this wasn’t so hard.

“Call us as soon as you land, at least,” Jay insists. “So we can know you’ve made it safe.”

“I will, Mum, swear.”

“I love you so much, my darling.”

“Love you too, Mum. And you, Daisy, and Pheebs and Fizzy and even Lottie.”

The little girls and Lottie giggle in spite of themselves, all rather teary now. Louis is too, he’s given up trying to conceal it. Maybe it’s best to get it all out here so he’s not sitting on the plane crying like a loser. He looks up at the huge digital board above them, listing all the flight details. “Now boarding,” he whispers. “It’s time for me to go.”

“One more hug for everyone,” Jay demands, pulling him in, and Louis goes down the line, embracing all of them once more before stepping back and shouldering his carry-ons.

“We love you, Lou,” Fizzy says, and the rest of the girls and his mum nod in agreement.

“I love you loads, I’ll call as soon as I land.”  
Louis can’t bring himself to say goodbye all of the sudden. He wishes one of them would say it first so he doesn’t have to. It feels so final.

“Goodbye, poppet,” Jay murmurs tearfully, raising her hand and waving sadly.

“Bye,” Louis gulps at the sharply painful word. “Goodbye. Love you, miss you already.”  
He doesn’t know what to say after that, they all look so thoroughly depressed and he wants to stay and make it better but there’s no time for that now. As he reaches the queue line for security, he knows he shouldn’t look back at them, because it’ll only make it worse, but he gives into the impulse and glances over his shoulder, seeing them all crowded together waving him off sadly. Lottie blows him a kiss, and he nearly drops his bag trying to return it. The couple in line behind him bump into him somewhat insistently, trying to get him to move. Louis inhales deeply and faces front again. His family is out of sight now anyways. It’s just him now, a small fish in a very big pond.

He feels lonely already.

\---

Louis has only ever been on one flight before, and it was a short one just to go see his sick auntie. The plane was cramped and stuffy, he was sat next to a temperamental toddler and a woman who was literally eating a bag of cheese.  
It wasn’t a pleasant experience.

But this plane is nothing like that. The seats are far spread apart, he could sleep comfortably on a small mattress right in the middle of the aisles. Unlike the crowded three-a-section seating on his previous flight, these were standalone seats, with armrests and tables and panels on either side for privacy. It’s all so polished and spacious that as Louis steps up to give his boarding pass to the cute, dimpled flight attendant, he’s almost positive he’s gotten on the wrong plane.

The attendant scans his pass and hands it back to him with a smile. “Welcome aboard, sir, have a seat where it suits you.”

“Thanks,” he murmurs vaguely. There’s only maybe three other on the plane so far, and everything is so quiet and neat. No cramming baggage and bickering couples and screeching babies. Louis pretty much has his pick of the place, so he selects a cushy window seat and stows his bag in the large overhead apartment, keeping his personal backpack on him as he sits down. This way he can have his books and snacks and things with him to use as he sees fit. Even fully situated with his bags around him, Louis finds he still has an extraordinary amount of leg room to utilize. So much that he’s not even sure what he’d ever do with it. A spiritual yoga session? A short workout routine? Host a small party with several of his closest friends? The possibilities are endless. He settles for making himself comfortable by draping his legs about the arms of the chair, feet resting on the window. He’s flying luxurious first class and has no humiliation whatsoever. Besides, there’s a privacy panel keeping anyone from seeing him anyways.

“Hi!”

No sooner has the thought of blissful privacy entered Louis’s brain, the same cute flight attendant from seconds ago appears around the corner of his compartment, smiling that bright, dimpled smile still. Louis jerks into a more becoming position, dropping his feet to the floor in surprise.

“Can I get you something to eat or drink before we take off?” the attendant asks warmly. Louis supposes this guy gets paid to be personable, but the sheer warmth of his personality makes Louis feel like Mr. Flight Attendant is shining that glowy light on him and him only.

“Er, uhm, what are the options?” Louis questions, gazing up at him.

The flight attendant - Louis thinks the pin on his chest says ‘Nick’ but he can’t be sure - holds up his hand and starts ticking off beverages. “Water -- with or without ice -- orange juice, champagne, various colas and fizzy drinks, and milk.”

Louis wonders briefly what kind of freak flies in such an elegant, rich first class flight and requests milk to drink. “Orange juice would be lovely, thanks.”

“Sure thing! I’ll get that right to you,” the attendant smiles brightly again before flitting away like a mystical little drink fairy. It’s hardly a minute later before he returns, juice in hand, and tells Louis to push the little button on the side of his seat should he need anything at all during the flight. Once he leaves, Louis puts his feet back up on the window sill again and sips his cold orange juice. He could get used to this life, he could get used to it very fast.

Take off is smooth, and everything on the plane is so quiet that Louis becomes bored rather quickly. He’s not used to the peace, it’s uncanny. Everyday for him is full of his sisters bickering and laughing and constantly moving about, whatever they’re doing. The quiet is deafening.

He reads a few pages of his book, but finds that his motion sickness extends to flying and quickly stops to curb the rising nausea. Eventually he resorts to simply putting headphones in and closing his eyes. Lottie made him a playlist before he left, and he won’t ever tell her, but it’s quite well curated if he’s being honest. It’s to the lilting sounds of music in his ears, the pleasant break from silence, that Louis dozes off about an hour into the flight.

Louis dreams of strange mansions in Hollywood filled with little boys who crowd around him, constantly vying for his attention. They seem so lonely, like they’ve never had someone listen to them before. Louis picks one up because they’re small, like china dolls, and made of glass. Breakable, cracked glass. He knows he’s here to take their pictures, feels such a sense of urgency about it, but when he checks his luggage, he remembers he’s forgotten his camera. He’s forgotten everything, the only thing in his bag is a copy of his science printouts from 4th grade, everything else has been left behind in Doncaster.

Louis wakes with a snap, feeling panicked and wondering frantically where he’s left his camera, before he remembers it’s stowed safely in his bag overhead. His heart rate slows down to it’s usual pace as he looks around at the gentle quiet of the cabin. Flight attendant Nick is gliding around, graciously offering dinner service to anyone who wants it. The general calm of the space makes Louis feel a little bit more at ease. Nothing is happening, nothing at all. He’s just had too much happen in one week and he’s overthinking now, even in his sleep.

The aircraft cabin is dim, personal lights around individual seats turned to the inhabitants liking, making soft little bubbles of light dot the rows of seats. Outside, it’s fully dark now, and stressed as he may be, Louis can’t help but appreciate the otherworldly beauty of it all. The stars, the miniscule specks of city thousands and thousands of feet beneath him, the dark all around, threatening to swallow them in all of it’s unknown glory.

Nothing makes you feel smaller than being surrounded in stars, Louis decides. It feels more unreal as ever, everything that’s happening, as he floats through the sky in the opulent comfort of a first class cabin, being waited on hand and foot.

And, ah yes, right on time, Nick the flight attendant is back, holding a short menu and offering Louis dinner. He accepts -- because why the hell not -- and is brought a lovely meal of chicken and rice, and a small pudding for desert. Yes, they serve actual deserts on this plane, not just stale cookies.  
Feeling well fed and warm after eating, Louis curls his legs up underneath him, having plenty of room in the spacious, cushy seat and rests his forehead on the window, gazing out. It’s probably only 8 or 9pm by this time, but he feels tired and knows he should sleep. God knows the kind of jetlag he’ll be facing one he arrives. Best to just get in as many naps now as he possibly can. Maybe Nick will be back with more food and nice things when he wakes. He can only hope.  
-

Louis naps through most of the flight in the end, which is impressive considering it’s a thirteen hour flight. By the time they land, he can’t remember what it feels like to stand up. He’s not even sure he can at this point. His legs feel like a pile of overcooked noodles as the passengers begin to disembark. He manages to hold all of his luggage and stumble down the ramp without falling, which he decides is a rather large feat. The directions to the right baggage claim are rather confusing and mixed around, and the jumble of unfamiliar American accents around him makes Louis feel thrown off. Like a slap in the face reminding him just how very very far from home he is.

Someone is supposed to meet Louis, he was told by Dani, the woman who arranged all of this, he supposes. He wonders what he’s supposed to do if he can’t find his ride. Call Dani? Call Hol-Tech? Abandon the life he knew and become a terminal-dwelling panhandler? Many options, none of them good. Plus his arm feels like it’s about to be pulled out of its socket if he has to hold his bags for much longer. Louis stands on his tiptoes, craning his neck in an attempt to see over the crowds of people surrounding him. Everyone here is tall, he swears. Someone knocks into his shoulder, making him stumble to the side to catch his balance, and out of the corner of his eye, he sees a sign raised up slightly above the many heads surrounding him.

Louis Tomlinson

That’s him! That’s his ride, Louis won’t be stuck in a terminal at LAX for the rest of his life after all. Shouldering his backpack firmly, Louis pushes his way through the crowd until he finds himself in from of the sign, which he now sees is clutched by a clean cut guy about his age, with neatly styled hair and a tidy black button up.

“Louis Tomlinson?” The man asks hopefully, and Louis is somewhat surprised to hear his polished British accent. He had assumed everyone in America would be, well, American.

Louis grins. “Cheers mate, that’s me.”

“Great!” The guy breaks into a smile to match Louis’s and holds out his hand. “Liam, Liam Payne.”

“Pleasure to meet you, Liam.”

“You as well, mate. I see you have your bags already, so...shall we?” he gestures vaguely towards what Louis assumes to be the direction of the exits, and Louis nods.  
Liam leads them both out throw a winding maze of security stops and airport cafes, and when they finally reach the doors, Louis is pleased to feel the sunlight on his skin. He’s never felt rays of sunshine that feel so bright and warm, like they’re just happy to shine in one of the most popular cities on the planet.

“What time is it, do you know?” Louis asks the boy he’s trailing after, realizing he’s lost track completely. He reckons it’s sometime in the middle of the night back home.

Liam glances at his watch. “It is about...10:13am. Welcome to sunny Los Angeles. Car’s this way.” He waves to the right and Louis follows him into a parking garage, where a very sleek looking car awaits them. He wonders briefly if he’ll be able to fit all his luggage in there, but when Liam opens the driver’s side to pop the trunk, it proves to be quite spacious and the two of them work together to stack everything in there with ease.

Liam slides sunglasses on before starting up the car and backing out of their parking spot. “So, have you ever been to LA before?”

“No, never,” Louis replies. “Never been to the states at all.”

“Excellent, we’ll have to show you around a bit while you’re here.”

“Love to,” he says. He does have a short -- or perhaps long -- list of things he wants to see and do while in the city.

“I moved here two...maybe three years ago? Lovely place,” Liam tells him. “Amazing people, incredible food scene, loads of opportunities. I’d recommend it to anyone who likes city life.”

“Well you live here, don’t you?” Louis asks with a smile. “You’d best recommend it to anyone if it’s your home now.”

“Fair point that,” Liam acknowledges, grinning at him. “But I’m saying even if you don’t find yourself at ease from the start, give it a second to catch up, and you’ll see there’s something here for everyone.”

“I’ll remember that, I’ll remember that,” Louis nods. He thinks he quite likes Liam, feels decently comfortable around him, given that he’s only known him for a maximum of fifteen minutes. Maybe it's possible for Louis to have friends here. He'd kind of dashed that as a possibility just because he figured everyone in this city was a giant fake, but maybe he was wrong.

Then again, fifteen minutes isn't much to go by.

"So, this uh, this movie…" Louis starts, hoping to prompt Liam into giving him some level of insider information. He feels like he still knows shockingly little about this whole job, when at this point he should probably have a firmer grasp on the situation.

"Documentary," Liam corrects with a nod. "Very exciting, came into the works rather suddenly, so we've had to bring a whole crew on for it quickly -- it's been a bit chaotic for me personally, handling everything going on -- but it ought to be good fun to work on I think. I'll warn you though, mate, the boys are still filming their show, even as the documentary starts taping, so we've got a lot of running around and overlapping schedules and three stressed out teenagers, so it gets rather hectic from time to time, just be prepared."

Louis shrugs to show his lack of concern. "I live with my mum and four sisters, I know chaos, mate, believe me."

"Ah, that'll do it I'm sure. Glad you have the experience though, some people come in from a quiet little life and simply don't know how to take it all in. It's fast paced, show business. Better to have lived through chaos already," Liam adjusts the rearview mirror slightly to the left as they slow to a stop at a red light. "If you're used to a crowd though, you should feel right at home at the house."

"Harry's house?"

Liam tilts his head. "Mm, it's not Harry's house per se. He lives there, but so do the other two boys. They rent the whole place together because they didn't like the flat the studio provided for them -- was a bloody nice apartment too, I'd have settled for it any day -- but you know, boys will be boys. They had the money so they went off and rented a mansion in the hills just because they could."

Louis can't help but feel slightly disgusted by the shallow exorbitance of it all. A mansion in Hollywood Hills when parents are struggling to put meals on the table for their kids and homeless struggle on the streets every day...Louis was just raised to rise above that sort of frivolous lifestyle. He appreciates the things that matter in life. It's not till he reassociates with the present that Louis realizes Liam is still talking.

"- And so they just packed up and moved after that, and then their old handler quit, and then they hired me on to replace her and we've been there ever since."

Louis blinks. "You're the boy's handler?"  
He's not a great judge of anything, but he hadn't figured that Liam is much older than himself.

"Have been for 8 months, yeah. My Mum works with the agency they're signed to, so I got the job pretty easy. They already knew me and all. I know what you're thinking," Liam nods. "Aren't I too young? Well, facts are, they just need it on paper that an adult lives with the boys and handles their schedule. I don't wipe their faces and tuck them in or any nonsense like that, I just live there and make sure they get to appointments on time -- or make sure they even have appointments in the first place."

"Sounds like a pretty cushy job," Louis concedes. "So why'd their last handler quit, then?"

Louis wonders if he's reading into it too much, or if something about Liam's demeanor shifts, as if he realized he had said too much previously and was hoping Louis wouldn't address it.

"She er, wasn't a great fit for the job anymore. Didn't really get on with the boys."

"Oh? Why not?"

"Ehm, not sure really. She was a bit batty, I think. Probably better off without her. Look, you can see Capitol Records over there!" The shift to a new topic is hardly subtle, but Louis decides to drop the topic for now.

It's quite odd though, his reaction, the topic, all of it. Almost shady. He can't be trying to hide something, could he?

Louis almost physically shakes himself to wipe the thoughts from his head. He's got to stop looking for a mystery where there isn't one. Not everyone in this Hollywood world is going to be a bad person, if he works here now, Louis had best be less paranoid about everything. He peers out the window at the sightseeing opportunity Liam so cordially pointed out and nods at it.

"Glorious."

"Quite nice, isn't it? I remember the most captivating thing about first moving to LA for me was finally being surrounded by all these things I'd only ever seen in books and on the television."

"It is strange," Louis agrees vaguely, still craning his neck to try and take in all the sights around them.

Liam proves to be a fairly good tour guide, even while driving. He points out all the landmarks and famous streets, seemingly having a new interesting fun fact about each thing they see. They stop for milkshakes at In-N-Out Burger, because Liam insists it's a California must have. They wait in a drive through line for an inappropriately long amount of time for what Louis thinks is, at most, an average milkshake. Not worth the wait time, but at least he can check that off his bucket list now.

"If you look over the tops of the trees on that ridge there, you can see the house," the other boy tells Louis, pointing out the red tiled roofing peeking above the surrounding foliage. They've left the bustle of the city and have been snaking up into the hills for five or ten minutes now. Louis finds it surprisingly calm and serene up here. He expected every part of this strange new world to be glitzy and inherently fake, but this side is frankly pretty. Gorgeous, even.

"And, here we are," Liam announces, pulling up to the foot of a long, gated road that twists up out of sight. "The driveway's a bit long," he jokes. "But it's better that way."  
He buzzes in by entering a pin on the offered pad and the gate slides open automatically.

Louis didn't even have a screendoor growing up. He can't imagine having a fancy gate that opens gracefully by itself. He leans his forehead on the window, gazing out at the trees, waiting for them to give way to the site of his new home.

"There she is," Liam announces proudly as the car pulls past a grove of exotic looking trees and all at once Louis has a clear view straight down the rest of the road to their destination.

Jesus Christ. Liam can call it a house all he wants, but that thing is not a house. It's- it's a league of its own. Clay tiles, cream walls, arched windows with artful ornamentation, balcony upon balcony, two dozen tall, sturdy palm trees and Louis can count at least three swimming pools, just from this side. And there's a marble staircase -- who has a staircase outside their house? The whole place rests on sprawling green lawn dotted with patios that trail off behind the house in pleasant, well lit walkways. Louis wonders what's back there. Probably more swimming pools.

"So? What do you think?" Liam asks excitedly as they pull to a stop by a line-up of several gorgeous, vintage looking cars.

"It's, um, it's stunning," Louis says honestly. He truly is stunned. The sheer extravagance if it all is mind boggling. He simply cannot comprehend living like this.

"Shall we go inside then? You can leave your bags, Peter will get those later."

Louis has no idea who Peter is, but he supposes he's trustworthy if Liam says he is, so he follows the boy up a well kept walkway to the door, which Liam holds open for him.

And yeah, Louis is surprised they actually have to open the door for themselves. At this point he thought there'd be hot robot servants to do it for them. Or at the very least, a wizened old butler.

The foyer is gorgeous and bright, with a sweeping staircase at the head of it, leading up to an intricately railed balcony.

"Payno!" A thickly accented voice calls from somewhere above them, making Louis look up. "Is that you?"

"Yeah, we've just arrived. Come meet Louis."

There's a scuffle upstairs, the skid of trainers on wood and then someone appears at the top of the stairs, hopping onto the handrail and sliding down it with the smooth agility of someone who's practiced a thousand times.

"Hi!"

It's the blonde boy from the show. Louis can't remember his name for the life of him. Sam, or something likethat?

"Louis, meet Niall. Niall, Louis."

Niall. Wow, not even close.

"Hi mate," Louis holds out his hand, but the boy yanks him into a hug instead of shaking it, slapping his back aggressively.

"Great to have you!"

"Great to be here," Louis tells him, wondering for the second time today why this kid isn't American. They are in America, aren't they? Perhaps he's mistakenly come to Ireland because this blonde thing is extremely extremely Irish.

"Pretty amazing here, huh?" Niall asks, every inch of his face painted with genuine enthusiasm. He's exactly as open and friendly as he appeared on TV, if not more so.

"Yeah," Louis looks around, taking in their surroundings. He has to tilt his head back just to see the ceiling. "The house is -- it's brilliant."

"I know right? Best place ever, right, Payno?" The blonde boy slings his arm around Liam's shoulder.

"Absolutely," Liam says, vigorously nodding. "Did you know it's got eight bedrooms?" he boasts proudly, as if he built the place himself.

"What d'you need eight bedrooms for?" The question slips from Louis' mouth before he can think it through. Lucky for him, neither of the boys look taken aback by it.

"Well, there's Harry, Niall, Zayn," Liam ticks names off his his fingers. "Our live in cook, and the butler, Peter. And groundskeeper has his own place over by the gardens. Oh, and me of course."

"As if you need a bedroom," Niall snickers, and Louis wonders distantly what that comment means and why it was so strangely ominous.

Liam evidently chooses to ignore it and continues on with his verbal house tour. "There's four swimming pools and a hot tub, plenty to do on the grounds if you're ever bored-"

"I put in a massive trampoline," Niall chimes in, looking pleased.

"Yes, the infamous trampoline. Or as I like to call it, 'Niall's summer bedroom'."

"Gets bloody hot, California summers," Niall defends himself. "Trampoline makes an excellent bed."

Louis bites back a smile. He thinks he and Niall are going to get along.

Liam shakes his head, looking mildly disappointed in the blonde boy, but ultimately deciding to let it go. "Have you seen Zayn anywhere?"

"Think he's in the garden painting. Could be mistaken."

"And Harry? He needs to come meet his photographer," Liam smiles warmly and Louis.

Niall's enthusiastic shine dims almost imperceptibly. "Harry's, uh, he's not home."

"Not home?" The dark haired boy repeats, brow creasing.

"Eh, bad day, you know?"

Liam looks so troubled that Louis almost feels worried.

"Uh, Louis, my friend, Niall will show you up to your room, won't you, Niall?"

The blonde nods. "Course."

"I need to handle a few things and then we can all go out and see the grounds and meet darling Zayn, alright?"

"Right," Louis murmurs agreeably. He won't start anything now of course, but he's desperately curious to know why the Niall and Liam have exchanged knowing glances and the latter looks rather grim.

"C'mon then," Niall encourages. "The west wing is absolutely smashing, you'll see."

\---

Louis bedroom is fit for a king, there’s no other way to put it. The exterior of the mansion might be a classic Spanish Colonial type, but the inside is gorgeously modern and sleek. The bed could easily sleep four grown people, and there’s a smooth, angular marble fireplace across from it. With a flatscreen TV suspended above. Louis wonders why they’d ever want to heat the rooms with fire in the middle of a desert. An expansive floor to ceiling window that takes up most of the far wall gives way to a large deck, a hammock and one of those hanging pod chairs that Louis always wanted as a kid.

Niall seems pleased looking at Louis’s awe. “How bout it, eh? The bathroom’s pretty extraordinary too. Yours has a sauna and a jacuzzi.”

“Sauna?” Louis repeats faintly, and Niall nods.

“Only the best for our photographer friend. Most of the wing is yours to use, there’s a bit of a living area, a spare studio space for whatever you’ll want that for, and the library, if you’re a bookish fellow.”

“You have a library?” he gapes.

“Smallish one, pretty nice though. You should check it out later. Um, Peter will be up with your bags in a minute, and Liam will come and get you whenever he’s done with, er, what he’s doing now. Until then, place is yours. The shower’s excellent, I’d recommend one.”

“Are you saying I smell?” Louis smirks and Niall throws his head back and laughs. It’s amusingly easy to make him laugh.

“If that’s how you interpret it, mate, maybe you do.”

Louis shakes his head, smiling. “Right then, shower it is.”

\---

Niall was right, the shower was excellent. So were the giant, fluffy towels to dry himself with, and the cloud soft robe that he wraps around himself, peering out of the foggy bathroom to find that his bags have arrived, neatly stacked together. Louis goes over to the largest suitcase with all of his clothes and digs around it for a fresh outfit, selecting sweatpants and a T-shirt as he figures the rest of the day will be spent settling in and he doesn’t need to dress up for that. He decides that he’ll leave unpacking for later, and slips on his trainers. Time to see if he can navigate this palace and find Liam or Niall to show him around more.

He manages to retrace his steps back down the staircase to the foyer, but that point becomes lost because he’s never been shown around the downstairs level of the house. He could just wander, Louis supposes. Perhaps he’ll find a bowling alley or a movie theater or something exciting like that. He elects to go right down the hall past the staircase, and finds most of the corridor is lined with closed doors. There’s an awful lot of plants in here considering they’re indoors, Louis observes. Like some little foliage god flickered in and decided to make this house their domain.

All the doors here are closed, and Louis is cocky but not that cocky, so he backpedals and returns to the staircase, taking a left this time. A couple doors are propped ajar in this hall, and he stops to peer into them curiously, hoping he won’t run into anything dark and horrifying like, a closet of bodies, or a plastic surgery lab where all the little children flock to get made into fancy Disney stars. Luckily, there’s nothing so alarming as that. The first room is fairly small, and all it seems to hold is walls and glass shelves full of various plaques, trophies and awards, as well as framed photos of what Louis assumes is the full cast of their boy’s TV show at red carpet events and such. A bit narcissistic maybe, but not unsettling. The second room, and the only other open one, is four doors down, and seems to be dedicated to even more plants. It’s actually quite pretty, Louis has to admit. It’s not a room so much as it is a little glass greenhouse attached to the building. A conservatory? Louis is pretty sure that’s what pretentious rich people have in their houses. He can’t blame them on this one, however, it’s a pretty fantastic space. Halfway between a study and an untamed jungle. There’s a long work desk built against one wall, cluttered with potting soil and pruners and see packets, but the rest of the space is neat and pleasant looking. Books shut in glass cases, stacked on the lengthy table in the middle of the room and even some in neat towers on the floor. The two armchairs placed in the room look plush and inviting and the whole place is dim in an artistic, aesthetically pleasing sort of way.

“Hello.”

Louis nearly jumps out of his skin, smacking the back of his hand on the doorjamb in surprise.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to alarm you,” a soft voice chuckles and from the leafy foliage in a small nook, a svelte figure emerges. "Thought it'd be better to make my presence known sooner rather than later."

"I-I am so sorry," Louis stammers. "I wasn't trying to barge in, I was just looking around and-"

"It's no matter," the boy tells him. "I'm just painting here. It's quieter. Zayn Malik," he extends his hand abruptly and Louis shakes it, realizing with a start that this is the boy from the TV show. He hadn't recognized him so entirely out of context and looking utterly different. On the show he was definitely the 'edgy' character, but in person he's everything that character could never be. Effortlessly brooding and artfully tousled. His dark hair falls into his eyes with perfect strands, brushing against the frames of his wire rimmed glasses.

"Louis. Tomlinson, uh, Louis Tomlinson."

"Ah, the photographer. Welcome. Are you lost, Louis? Has someone shown you to your room?"

"No, I’m not lost, er, I was just being nosy and exploring the house. Lovely place you guys have here,” he ends somewhat awkwardly.

Zayn looks around, as if he's just noticing the quality of the whole area. "Thank you, it was my pick. Harry wanted something else. Niall didn't care, he just wanted pools I think. Have you seen the grounds?" The dark boy gestures to the sliding door on his right and Louis shakes his head ‘no’.

"Come. They're wonderful."

Louis follows this odd, soft-toned creature out of the door, curious over his strangely silky mannerisms and careless grace. They walk down an elegant patio, once again dripping with plant life, and pick one of the twining pathways to walk down. Arches of vines and flowers surround the walkway around them, making it secluded and sweet smelling. Louis notices that Zayn is barefoot, and apparently unbothered by his lack of shoes.

"Did you know this entire place is upkept by one man?" Zayn asks, abruptly breaking the quiet between them. "The grounds, I mean. Our gardener, he does all of this. Picks all of the plants himself, fosters them all into growing strong and sturdy," the boy plucks a succulent pink flower from the vine at his shoulder and rubs the petals in between his delicate fingers. "It's wonderful, if you think about it. I think maybe I'd just be a gardener if I wasn't acting. What would you be, Louis? If you weren't taking photos?"

Louis is thrown for a loop by the question. No one's ever asked him that before. "Um, I suppose maybe I'd be in drama actually. I used to be in all the school plays and things before I started focusing on photography."

"When did you find photography?”

“Well, uh, I took this picture a couple years ago -- it was kind of an accident, really -- and sold it to a big tabloid. Made decent money, I started slumming it as a pap till I realized that wasn’t what I enjoyed about taking pictures, so I stopped and got a real job with a film arts studio, let me pursue photography as I wanted it.”

“So you’ve lived in LA for awhile, working with a film studio?”

“No, no, it was a really small studio in my hometown back in England,” Louis corrects. “I’ve only been in Los Angeles for about two hours now.”

“How old are you?"

Normally Louis finds that question annoying, people tend to use it to judge if you’re in the ‘right place in life’ for your age and he thinks it’s utter bullshit, but Zayn sounds genuinely curious.  
"Eighteen, you?"

"Seventeen," Zayn replies, tucking the flower in the breast pocket of his button up. Louis is not sure why, but that answer throws him. Logically, he knew all of the boys were young, especially since Liam just told him all about his job and how he has to be here to make sure everything runs smoothly, but hearing Zayn actually say it is unsettling. He looks so much older now, carrying himself the maturity and poise of someone in their 20s at least. I mean, Niall, Niall's young, he can buy that, but Zayn?

"I seem older, I know," Zayn's smile is wry, almost bitter. "I've been told, don't worry, you can say it."

"Wasn't going to say a thing," Louis says, and it's true. Whatever he was thinking wasn't going to be voiced. "We all have our stories."

"That we do," Zayn smiles, sticking his hands in his pocket as they walk. "Is this your first time in LA, then?"

"First time," Louis nods. "Always wanted to come here, you know? See what all the fuss is about. I think I'll like it alright."

The dark boy shrugs, sunlight hitting his caramel skin as they emerge from the tunnel of vines. "It's like any other city, I think. Everyone glamorizes Hollywood, but what's it got that any other metro area doesn't, you know? Everyone wants something here, but no one wants to work for it. Dull heartbeats of a jaded, post modern world, just flickering in and out."

Louis wonders how it's possible for someone to speak with such form, in a fluid way that's almost poetic, like he's had time to rehearse all his lines prior and now he's just delivering. "So why'd you come here then, if it's all so lifeless?"

Zayn turns his head to Louis, a smile on his face that doesn't reach his eyes. "Well, I wanted something too, Louis. The problem is that I got it."

\--

"Louis! Mate! There you are!"

Louis looks up, glancing around for the source of the voice and trains his eyes on Liam, jogging towards him down one of the flagstone walkways. Louis notices that he doesn't diverge off the path, even when it would have been quicker to skip through a patch of manicured lawn to get to him, he sticks to the clear path.

"Been looking for you, mate."

"Sorry," Louis says quickly. "Hope it's alright if I'm out here, I was just enjoying the yard and having a minute to myself."

"No no no, of course," Liam assures him. "Lovely that you like the place, you know, it's all yours to roam and whatnot. I mean, I'll warn you, you might find Niall sunbathing nude on his trampolines at some point, and you'll likely run into Zayn painting in the rose gardens, but you're free to explore anyways."

"I've met Zayn," Louis tells the other boy, covering his eyes from the sun while tilting his head to look up at him.

"Did you?" Liam asks, looking pleased.

"Went for a walk in the gardens, broke the ice a bit."  
If Louis’ being honest, his time with Zayn was probably the most unorthodox first impression he'd ever gotten from anybody. They strolled through the gardens for some time, talking in between spaces of calm quiet. His remark about coming to California and finding what he wanted had made Louis unbearably curious and unsettled. There’s something about the lifelessness in his eyes when he said it that makes Louis want to skip to the end and find out everything that shaped him into such a strange individual.

Louis had found it was impossible to sustain small talk with him, Zayn was clearly above that. He wanted to know about family, about ambitions, about music that makes you nostalgic and sad. He was a thinker, he wanted something to think about, so he gracefully fished anecdote after anecdote from Louis, while somehow sharing nothing about himself.

He was the most fascinating person Louis had ever met, and not because of anything he did, it was everything he didn't do. Louis wanted to, had to know more about this, unsettling, poised child with the intelligence of a wise adult.

"Zayn's lovely, isn't he?" Liam asks, pulling Louis back to the present.

"He's um... intimidating," Louis answers entirely honestly.

Liam laughs. "Oh, he's not. He's smart, and shy, it's an act. No one likes a shy celebrity. He's sweet, I promise you. The unnerving facade will fade once you get to know him."

Louis decides to make it a priority to get to know Zayn then, because he wants to unlock something real under that perfect surface.

“Anyways, it’s nearly dinnertime, and we always eat together. Unless you don’t like that, then by all means, please don’t feel the need to accept, I can have a housekeeper bring you food in your room, or here in the gardens if you’d like, anywhere really-”

“No,” Louis cuts Liam off, feeling a smile rise to his face. There’s something so endearing about Liam, he looks confident and put together, but Louis can sense the almost self conscious need to please in him. It’s sweet, actually, and makes him so much more human, which is not something Louis was expecting in any of the people he’d work with here. Besides, the thought of eating dinner at a table, almost like a family is everything Louis is used to and again, absolutely not what he’d expect little movie stars and their handlers to do. “I’d love to eat with you all, of course.”

Liam positively beams. “C’mon then, Cook’s made chicken alfredo.”

Feeling rather pleased, Louis hops up from his bench and follows Liam inside.

\---

Dinner is nothing short of comforting. Almost everything about this new life in LA is bound to be different, but this, sitting down together and eating, Louis does this every night back home. Sure, it may be a bit different -- they don't have a cook in Doncaster to set the tables and bring them their food -- but the familiarity of it all is still there.

The dining table is long, far too long for just the four of them so they all cluster at the end a bit. Liam's at the head of the table, which seems fitting, on his left is Zayn, whom Louis notices Liam appears to be not very subtly fond of, given that he's scooted his chair a bit to the side to be closer to him, and checks on the younger boy every couple minutes to see if he wants more garlic bread or lemonade or whatever.

Liam wouldn't be someone Louis would peg as gay, but then, he doesn't like to peg anyone as anything because it's generalizing and stereotyping and he hates that. Perhaps Liam's just very maternal.

Then again, Louis wouldn't mind if Liam _was_ gay, because he's not half bad looking and it's been a long time since Louis got any action. Maybe moving to Los Angeles will prove to be an excellent move for his sex life.

Niall seems unconcerned by all of the above topics, slumped haphazardly in his chair, leg dangling over the armrest and his plate in his lap. His table manners are 0/10 but his cheerful personality makes up for it entirely.

"So Louis, first night in the new timezone, eh? You're bound to be bloody jet lagged, yeah? What do you say we skip sleeping all together and go night swimming?"

Louis can't pretend the idea of splashing around at night in the perfectly warm Los Angeles air wasn't extraordinarily tempting...but he did come here for work, not to party it out. He smiles at Niall. "That sounds incredible, but I've heard the best way to adjust to new timezones is just to suck it up and force yourself into that schedule."

Niall pouts in a comically exaggerated way. "No fun, no one ever wants to do it with me. Harry might have, but he's not here. I'll just go alone again."

Zayn, who's been eating quietly until this point, looks up, glancing between Niall and Liam. "Where is Harry, Li?"

Liam swallows what he's chewing slowly and wipes at his mouth with the provided cloth napkins. "He's not home."

"Oh, bloody fucking obvious, that," Niall interjects with his loud voice. "You're so helpful, Liam." The blonde boy turns to address Zayn. "Harry's lost his shit again."

"Niall," Liam says warningly, and the blonde rolls his eyes.

"Sorry, _Harry's having a rough week and he'll be home-"_

" _As soon as he feels better_ ," Liam finishes in a rehearsed manner, nodding in approval.

Feels better? Louis ponders the choice of words. Maybe Harry Styles is secretly terminally ill and the other boys are sworn to secrecy, so that's why they speak as if they're walking on eggshells. "Is he sick, Harry?" Louis asks, perhaps somewhat boldly. He should really learn when to pry and when not to.

Niall snickers. "Yeah, sick in the-"

"Niall," Liam cuts him off a second time. "Let's not make things worse, shall we?" He wipes at his mouth again and turns to Louis. "Harry's um, he's decided it would be better if he took a couple days for his health, he's not been terribly well this week, but he'll be home very soon and he's very excited to meet you then, I'm sure."

"Lovely," Louis replies, scrunching his nose into a smile that's not all together genuine. This kid, whoever he is, seems slightly problematic already, and Louis doesn't like that. What he does like are these boys, here at this table. He thinks he'll get on with them, and he can't help but feel like Harry's going to ruin the good energy so far with his presence.

He's not exactly wishing that there was no Harry Styles and these three boys were the only ones he'd be working with, but he realizes that's ridiculous, given that he's flown thousands of miles to be here for Harry.

Then again...he's flown thousands of miles and the kid's not even here.

Louis didn't think it was possible to dislike someone before you've even met them, but as it stands he feels slightly disrespected by the carelessness of this boy, and that doesn't bode well

That doesn't bode well at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello darlings
> 
> She's updating regularly, this is unheard of
> 
> The song for this chapter is "This Is the Day" by The The, because I like the feeling of potential and adventure in that song, and it fits with Louis flying off to LA and all
> 
> How are you all handling self iso? Hope everyone is good and staying healthy. 
> 
> Xoxo Elle


	4. Chapter 4

The next two days are the most carefree and unconcerned of Louis’ entire life. Liam came to him the first morning after he’d arrived and extremely apologetically informed him that Harry won’t be returning for a couple days after all, so they’ve postponed filming anything till then, but Louis is free to do whatever he pleases till then, and if he needs anything at all to please find Liam and tell him. Louis agrees, almost wanting to tell him it’s not that big of a deal and Liam doesn’t need to look so completely stressed, but he supposes he doesn’t really know how big of a deal it is. Perhaps Harry’s really sick and he should feel bad for him and everyone involved for having to deal with this. 

Either way, he has the next days to himself and he’s not going to sulk about that. He spends a lot of the time in his room watching movies because this place has every streaming platform you could ever want, and then some. When Louis gets tired of that, he goes downstairs and eventually gets roped into catapulting off of trampolines into one of the massive swimming pools with Niall, whose laugh is infectious. He’s impossible not to like.

Louis takes his camera and wanders through the sunny grounds, taking pictures of flowers and dewdrops just to flex his photography muscles. He calls his mum and sisters three times, telling them about his flight and what LA is like, and showing them a bit of the house. Not too much though, because Louis isn’t sure what sort of privacy restrictions he’s bound to. Fizzy is crushed when she hears that Louis and Harry haven’t hit it off yet -- mostly because Harry has yet to show his face. She tells him not to call back until he’s friends with Harry, prompting Jay to chide the younger girl. After getting a sufficient amount of FaceTiming with his family, he takes another shower, just because he can. He naps before dinner, and then joins the other boys to eat. It’s more lively this team around, ice having been broken yesterday, and the tense silence around Harry’s absence seems to have ebbed away slightly. Louis talks of home and his family there, which makes Zayn and Liam recall their homes in England fondly, and Louis is glad to see that Zayn can reminisce and be generally nostalgic like that. Perhaps Liam was right about him being different than he is at face value. Niall just shakes his head at all of their talk and stubbornly maintains that ‘Ireland is the best country in the world, everyone knows that’.

He sleeps like a baby in that oversized, feather soft bed, knowing that tomorrow is another day of leisure and lack of responsibility.

When he wakes, Louis takes his third shower, doing a facemask beforehand this time, and emerges reenergized with dewy skin to boot. He explores the library, which Niall made out to be small, but it’s actually sizable. He eats his lunch there, reading a Dean Koontz thriller to pass time. 

Eventually he gets bored and debates calling his mum and sisters again, but decides to go outside instead, to see if there’s anything worth doing out there. Niall’s by the pool again -- Louis isn’t sure he ever leaves -- so he stays out there with him, practicing backflips and cannonballs. When he’s all tired out, Louis selects a comfortable looking lounge chair and snoozes in the sun, glad for absolutely nothing to do.

By late afternoon, maybe mid evening, Louis has lost track of time, the sun is starting to dip low, bathing the city in a golden glow, and Louis’ skin feels slightly too warm, so he decides to get up and head inside, in search of human interaction. That’s the one downside, it’s easy to get lonely in such a massive place. 

Through the wide sliding doors, the house is cool and dim compared to the sweltering, bright heat of outdoors. Soft piano music floats through the foyer, and Louis follows it curiously down the hall and to a door, propped ajar just barely. He peaks in, wondering if it's pre-recorded, or if someone's actually in there playing, and sure enough, there's Zayn sat poker straight on the bench and staring straight ahead, eyes never dipping to see what his hands are doing on the keys, and yet, he never seems to miss a note. 

"Louis." The music stops abruptly and Zayn glances at the door, where Louis was sure he couldn't even be seen. Perhaps Zayn is omniscient. "Come in."

"Hi," Louis breathes as he steps into the room, slightly embarrassed at having interrupted Zayn needlessly twice now. "Sorry, I wanted to see where the music was coming from. I uh, I didn't know you played."

"There's a lot of things you don't know about me, Louis, we've known each other for two days," a ghost of a smile plays on his lips and Louis is pretty sure that was Zayn's version of a joke. 

"Yeah, s'pose that's true," he agrees. 

Zayn shuts the piano, sliding the cover down over the keys smoothly and crosses his legs. "I've played since I was four years old. My Mum wanted me too, she said it was proper. Course, then I went and did a few not so proper things after that, so that was a bit pointless. I can play well though, so I suppose it wasn't all together pointless."

"I'd give anything to play. Wanted lessons when I was little desperately, but we couldn't afford them. So everything I know is by ear, can't even read music. You're lucky, really."

"Oh, I know. I actually do like playing, I can honestly say that. Perhaps I'll retire from acting and become a pianist."

"The other day you said you wanted to be a gardener," Louis points out. 

Zayn waves his hand dismissively. "Gardening is so dull when you think about it, it's a thing of the past. Art, music, that will always be our future."

"Who's to say you can't do both, and more?"

"Touche, mate,” the raven-haired boy slides the piano back open and begins to play again, something Louis recognizes but could never name. In the hall, there’s the unmistakable sound of footsteps coming towards them, and a door on the opposite side of the room is tapped open.

“Zaynie,” Liam’s lilting voice floats through the air as he peers into the room, spotting Louis in surprise and beaming. He always looks so pleased when he finds Louis with the other boys, like all he desires is for them all to be one happy family. Louis isn’t sure of the likelihood of that, but he supposes they’re all alright lads and he could be doing worse for company. 

“Sorry, didn’t mean to interrupt, just coming to get Zayn for dinner,” Liam says apologetically. 

Over the past two days, Louis has come to the conclusion that Zayn and Liam are friends with a lot of pent up sexual tension. It’s maybe a bit odd because isn’t Liam Zayn’s manager or something? But then again, they can’t be more than a year or so apart and that’s more acceptable than some of the relationships he’s seen in his day. Either way, they always seem to linger close to each other, and Zayn always seems the most normal -- or least weird? -- when he’s speaking to Liam. Almost softer and more vulnerable. Louis wonders if he’s the only one aware of the chemistry between them or if Niall is equally pained and also thinks they need to be locked up till they screw each other.

Anyways, that’s not his business. He’s here for work, he’s polite and professional and does not care about anybody’s personal life, no ma’am.

“So, um, dinnertime, if anyone’s interested,” Liam reminds them, breaking the silence.”

“Course,” Zayn shuts the piano and stands, dusting his hands on his pants and going to Liam’s side.

“But, I really didn’t mean to interrupt, if you’re playing for Louis and-” Liam looks anxious as ever that he’s done wrong by someone, but Zayn cuts him off smoothly.

“It’s nothing, darling, you’re fine.”

Darling? Darling? Fuck, Zayn’s so gone for him, Louis should just leave the room right now so they can get it on. 

“Louis? You coming to eat?”

“Of course,” Louis smiles, acting like he’s not mentally barging into their private lives. “What’re we having?”

“Friend chicken,” Liam replies. “I believe Niall’s started without us, but that’s typical Niall.

Sure enough, Niall’s already slouched in his seat with a drumstick in hand, looking properly pleased. Then again, he always does. “Oi, nice of you to join me, lads.”

“Niall, I told you I was going to get them and come right back, it’s not as if I’ve been ages.”

“Anything’s ages when there’s a plate of chicken in front of you, mate.”

Liam shakes his head, but Louis is inclined to agree, and pulls out a chair, helping himself to food hungrily. It’s a good thing there’s a gym on the premises here, because Louis eats half his weight in incredible food every day here. I mean, he’s yet to actually go see the gym himself but...it is there should he ever need it.

“So tomorrow,” Liam begins, cutting his chicken neatly with a fork and knife -- and yeah, Louis gets that he’s supposed to be the adult, and a good influence, but who eats fried chicken with a fork? “Tomorrow we’ve got a couple things to do.”

“Ah, fuck,” Niall groans, throwing down his napkin. “We have actual things to do? I like it when Harry leaves and everything gets halted, I’ve adjusted to my life in the swimming pool with no responsibilities.”

“Niall, could you just listen without talking for once?”

“What’s in it for me?”

“More chicken,” Liam slides the platter to him, and Niall grabs a couple more pieces, looking satisfied. “As I was saying, tomorrow you have press to do. Three interviews, back to back, then you’re both heading to the set to do reshoots for last week’s taping.”

“What we gotta do reshoots for?” Niall mumbles through a mouth full of chicken. 

“The writers have decided to change the original plan, they’ve cut the scene in the grocery store, and added something else, I can’t remember what. They’ve forwarded me copies of the revised script, which I have printed for you both.”

“Thank god,” Zayn shudders. “The grocery store scene was atrocious, I think I’d quit if I had to reshoot anything to do with that.”

“I liked that scene,” Niall mumbles sulkily and Zayn creases his eyebrows.

“You like anything where you have to be loud and publicly humiliating.”

“Yeah, that’s why I accepted a job as a fucking Disney star, why are you here then?” 

“I really don’t know sometimes,” the darker boy replies dryly. He turns to Liam again. “How are we supposed to give interviews without Harry on his show?”

“Don’t discredit yourself, you and Niall are just as much main characters as Harry is,” Liam says kindly and Niall shakes his head in disbelief.

“It’s called ‘Sincerely, Luke’ not ‘Sincerely, Charlie’, not “Sincerely, Finley’ -- although, ‘Sincerely, Finley’ sounds great, got a ring to it, yeah? Perhaps we can rework the show to cut Harry from it since he fucking hates it anyways.”

A tangible silence falls around the table and Niall seems to realize he’s said too much, and coughs to fill the sudden hush. “Er, anyways. Interviews sound fun, just me and you Zayn, eh?”

“Fantastic.”

Dinner is somewhat quiet after that. Even Niall doesn’t really speak. He can probably feel the quiet judgement from Liam, because Louis certainly can. If anyone would tell him what’s actually going on with Harry, Niall would. Maybe Louis should try to get him drunk so he spills his secrets.

On second thought, Niall is seventeen, and they’re in America, so it’s not even legal for Louis to be drinking here, so he’d probably get thrown in jail for that.

All four of them are finishing up, one of the housekeepers -- Louis isn’t sure of her name, which makes him feel guilty -- has just come in with her little trolley to collect dishes, when a commotion in the foyer interrupts the quiet calm of the house. 

“They’re not in the car, Peter, I don’t fucking have any bags! No, just let me inside, give it up.”  
The front door closes too loudly and there’s a storm of aggravated footsteps. “Liam! Where are you, I’ve-”

A tall figure appears in the door and the entire room falls dead silent. 

Well, if it isn’t Harry Styles.

The first thing Louis thinks is he’s a lot taller in person. He’s a lot of everything in person. Onscreen, the picture of innocence, with his coiffed hair and little boy-bander outfits, but now Harry stands before them looking disheveled. His hair falls in loose, messy curls, almost to his shoulders, which is an infinitely better look, Louis has to admit. His black silk shirt is unbuttoned, revealing half of his chest. He has a lot of tattoos for a Disney star Louis thinks vaguely. This person isn’t even close to the peppy boy next door that Fizzy fonds after, he’s so far from that that Louis is almost sure he’s meant to be somewhere else.

The room is still silent, and Louis is painfully aware of everyone else being painfully aware that this is probably not how he was supposed to meet sweet little child star Harry. Niall is looking at Liam and Liam is looking at Harry and Harry is looking at Louis and nobody seems to be able to say a thing.

“Who’s this?” Harry demands, waving his hand at Louis. His voice is different than Louis remembers. British, for one thing, unlike the fake American accent that apparently everyone on that show has, but darker too, like he’s just woken up and he’s still exhausted.

Liam stands up quickly. “Harry, I didn’t - no one told me you were headed back, I would have waited on dinner for you.”

“I don’t want-”

“No matter, how about we go upstairs and get you situated home again,” Liam cuts him off roughly, which is out of character, and seizes Harry by the arm, practically dragging the boy away.

Niall clears his throat, which is about as relieving as if he’d said ‘well, isn’t this just fucking awkward.”

“Er, well, great dinner, that was, yeah?”

Louis nods, simply to have something to do.

Zayn pushes his chair back, standing up. “Harry’s tired, he’s just come back from travelling,” he says, in a valiant attempt to ease the tension. “It’s nothing, happens to the best of us. Niall, why don’t you show Louis the theater in the basement?”

“Where are you going then?” Niall demands. “Because if it’s about Harry I want-”

“Harry is fine,” Zayn says sharply, coming as close as Louis has seen him so far to breaking his smooth character. “He’s fine. There’s nothing that needs to be done. I’m just tired, I’m heading up to bed.”

“It’s 7pm.”

“Niall, just take him.”

Niall clearly feels sufficiently threatened, because he pushes his chair out huffily and stands up. “C’mon Louis, we have to go watch a movie.”

Under probably any other circumstances, Louis would have no problem going to lounge around in someone’s home theater, but now he’s quickly trying to come up with some semi-valid reason to stay up here and try to overhear something that will tell him what’s going on, because clearly something is going on. Zayn nods encouragingly at Louis.

“Go on, we have loads of films, you have to check it out.”

Feeling like his chances of staying and not coming off as suspicious are slim to nothing, Louis stands up reluctantly. “Sure, yeah, I’d love to go see that.”  
\---

Louis had to sit through the entirety of The Parent Trap before he was able to make his excuses and slip away. 

Yes, The Parent Trap, because apparently Niall is literally six years old. Okay, so maybe Louis actually likes that movie and he found it endearing that out of everything, Niall selected that, but the point is that he didn't want to watch any movie, he wanted to be upstairs lingering to figure out what's really going on. 

By the time the movie finished, it was nearly 9pm and Louis could pull the old 'so sorry, but it's the jet lag...I should head to bed, my apologies' and head up both flights of stairs to the third level of the house where his room is located.

This is his third day here, he knows exactly how to get to his room. Up the stairs, to the left, down the hall. But this time... this time, he could take a right, to the other wing. The other wing that he's never been to but he'd wager anything that that's where the other boys rooms are. Which means that's where Liam dragged Harry up to. 

And by God, Louis just wants to know what the deal with Harry is. 

Don't do it, he chides himself. Go to bed and mind yourself like your mother taught you. 

Well… his mum's not here now, is she? He's in a different country all by himself and he's tired, so that'll justify all the bad decisions he's about to make. 

Louis heads down the hall, forcing himself to walk quietly but not tiptoe. Obviously, he doesn't want to be heard, but tiptoeing is inherently suspicious and if someone were to spot him doing that, he'd be caught right away. Come on, it's not as if he hasn't thought this through at all. 

He finds himself at a corridor with four doors, nearly identical to the one in the other wing that houses his own bedroom. One door, leading to a bathroom, is ajar, but the other three are shut tight. Not right enough to prevent muffled discussion from drifting into the hall though, and Louis resists the urge to smile devilishly. This is too easy.

He pads quietly to the door at the end of the hall, sourcing the noise from there and leans against the wall on the other side of the door, so if someone should open it suddenly he'd have a split second to run for cover without being seen.  
Louis closes his eyes and and allows himself to tune into the conversation inside the room. 

"- really could care less, Liam, this wasn't my fucking idea-"

"It's what we collectively decided was best," Liam's voice cuts over the other one, which almost definitely belongs to Harry. "You agreed to this, so just go out there and meet him properly, make a good impression, Harry, it doesn't have to be this difficult."

"And he doesn't have to be here!" Harry hisses. "In the house, I -" there's the sound of someone pacing the floor almost frantically. "I don't want him in the house."

"He's a lovely lad, really, if you'd only-"

"I don't fucking want him in the house, Liam!" Harry almost shouts, and Liam desperately trying to hush him can be heard from outside the room.

Louis wrinkles his nose, though he's semi aware no one is around to see his display of distaste. This Harry kid seems like precisely the kind of diva Louis was hoping to avoid. And it's a shame because the other boys seem so decent. Imagine getting mad at someone who's flown thousands of miles, away from his family, to be here upon your team's request, Louis simply cannot comprehend. 

He could just take his extraordinary photography skills and leave, he hopes Harry knows that. 

He doesn't need to stand and listen to this. Partially out of fear of getting caught, and partially because there's no mystery to be solved. Harry's a spoiled child star and Liam is too good to him, working overtime trying to protect the kid's reputation. It's glaringly obvious even to Louis as a newcomer. 

And he wishes he could say he's surprised, maybe he even got his hopes up because Liam and Zayn and Niall are nice enough lads, but when it all comes down to it, this is exactly what Louis expected in the first place. 

Louis ducks back into his room, changing quickly into sweats and pretending that he’s been in his room getting ready for bed all along. He takes a seat at the desk against a far wall and pulls a postcard from the stack neatly tucked in a drawer and starts addressing it to his Doncaster home. The younger girls like getting letters and things from him, and he promised he’d send them as much as possible, so here he is, following through like the good brother he is.   
He’s just signing off with many hearts and smiley faces when there’s a tap on his door, making him look up.

“Come in,” Louis calls. The door opens and Louis is taken aback to see Harry hovering in the doorway. He was expecting Niall or one of the other boys, if anyone. He stands up, shoving his cheesy notes to his sisters aside and trying to look as put together as one can in trackies and an old T-shirt.

“Uh, hi, um, can I...help you?” Louis trails off, flustered.

“I just wanted to apologize for earlier,” Harry says, face completely devoid of emotion. “The things jetlag will do to you, yeah?” he smiles, perfect and white and for some reason, extremely unsettling. Instead of enhancing his features, as one’s smile usually does, it makes him look almost plastic, like one of those little Ken dolls the twins are always toting around with their Barbies.

“Right,” Louis says, wondering if Harry is really going to pretend like he wasn’t just cussing Louis out for being in this house.

“Anyways, it’s excellent to have you here. I’m sure Liam’s filled you in on everything, so, I’ll leave you to it. Just wanted to say hello and give you my regards,” Harry nods curtly and backs out, shutting the door before Louis can even get another word in. He sits back down at his desk, a bit thrown. That wasn’t even a proper introduction, no names exchanged, no hands shaken, it’s as if Harry’s barely following through with the minimum effort possible simply to say he did. 

What a joyous person he’s turning out to be. 

Perhaps it’s not too late to turn around and head home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey kids and children, sorry this update took so long. I have no excuses besides I literally just did not feel like uploading. It was written and everything I just couldn't be bothered. My bad 🤪
> 
> The song for this chapter is Starring Role by MARINA cause Harry arrives at the end and that's totally his anthem. 
> 
> Hope everyone is staying home safe xoxo


	5. Chapter 5

The next two days are the most carefree and unconcerned of Louis’ entire life. Liam came to him the first morning after he’d arrived and extremely apologetically informed him that Harry won’t be returning for a couple days after all, so they’ve postponed filming anything till then, but Louis is free to do whatever he pleases till then, and if he needs anything at all to please find Liam and tell him. Louis agrees, almost wanting to tell him it’s not that big of a deal and Liam doesn’t need to look so completely stressed, but he supposes he doesn’t really know how big of a deal it is. Perhaps Harry’s really sick and he should feel bad for him and everyone involved for having to deal with this. Either way, he has the next days to himself and he’s not going to sulk about that. He spends a lot of the time in his room watching movies because this place has every streaming platform you could ever want, and then some. When Louis gets tired of that, he goes downstairs and eventually gets roped into catapulting off of trampolines into one of the massive swimming pools with Niall, whose laugh is infectious. He’s impossible not to like. Louis takes his camera and wanders through the sunny grounds, taking pictures of flowers and dewdrops just to flex his photography muscles. He calls his mum and sisters three times, telling them about his flight and what LA is like, and showing them a bit of the house. Not too much though, because Louis isn’t sure what sort of privacy restrictions he’s bound to. Fizzy is crushed when she hears that Louis and Harry haven’t hit it off yet -- mostly because Harry has yet to show his face. She tells him not to call back until he’s friends with Harry, prompting Jay to chide the younger girl. After getting a sufficient amount of FaceTiming with his family, he takes another shower, just because he can. He naps before dinner, and then joins the other boys to eat. It’s more lively this team around, ice having been broken yesterday, and the tense silence around Harry’s absence seems to have ebbed away slightly. Louis talks of home and his family there, which makes Zayn and Liam recall their homes in England fondly, and Louis is glad to see that Zayn can reminisce and be generally nostalgic like that. Perhaps Liam was right about him being different than he is at face value. Niall just shakes his head at all of their talk and stubbornly maintains that ‘Ireland is the best country in the world, everyone knows that’. He sleeps like a baby in that oversized, feather soft bed, knowing that tomorrow is another day of leisure and lack of responsibility. When he wakes, Louis takes his third shower, doing a facemask beforehand this time, and emerges reenergized with dewy skin to boot. He explores the library, which Niall made out to be small, but it’s actually sizable. He eats his lunch there, reading a Dean Koontz thriller to pass time. Eventually he gets bored and debates calling his mum and sisters again, but decides to go outside instead, to see if there’s anything worth doing out there. Niall’s by the pool again -- Louis isn’t sure he ever leaves -- so he stays out there with him, practicing backflips and cannonballs. When he’s all tired out, Louis selects a comfortable looking lounge chair and snoozes in the sun, glad for absolutely nothing to do. By late afternoon, maybe mid evening, Louis has lost track of time, the sun is starting to dip low, bathing the city in a golden glow, and Louis’ skin feels slightly too warm, so he decides to get up and head inside, in search of human interaction. That’s the one downside, it’s easy to get lonely in such a massive place. Through the wide sliding doors, the house is cool and dim compared to the sweltering, bright heat of outdoors. Soft piano music floats through the foyer, and Louis follows it curiously down the hall and to a door, propped ajar just barely. He peaks in, wondering if it's pre-recorded, or if someone's actually in there playing, and sure enough, there's Zayn sat poker straight on the bench and staring straight ahead, eyes never dipping to see what his hands are doing on the keys, and yet, he never seems to miss a note. "Louis." The music stops abruptly and Zayn glances at the door, where Louis was sure he couldn't even be seen. Perhaps Zayn is omniscient. "Come in." "Hi," Louis breathes as he steps into the room, slightly embarrassed at having interrupted Zayn needlessly twice now. "Sorry, I wanted to see where the music was coming from. I uh, I didn't know you played." "There's a lot of things you don't know about me, Louis, we've known each other for two days," a ghost of a smile plays on his lips and Louis is pretty sure that was Zayn's version of a joke. "Yeah, s'pose that's true," he agrees. Zayn shuts the piano, sliding the cover down over the keys smoothly and crosses his legs. "I've played since I was four years old. My Mum wanted me too, she said it was proper. Course, then I went and did a few not so proper things after that, so that was a bit pointless. I can play well though, so I suppose it wasn't all together pointless." "I'd give anything to play. Wanted lessons when I was little desperately, but we couldn't afford them. So everything I know is by ear, can't even read music. You're lucky, really." "Oh, I know. I actually do like playing, I can honestly say that. Perhaps I'll retire from acting and become a pianist." "The other day you said you wanted to be a gardener," Louis points out. Zayn waves his hand dismissively. "Gardening is so dull when you think about it, it's a thing of the past. Art, music, that will always be our future." "Who's to say you can't do both, and more?" "Touche, mate,” the raven-haired boy slides the piano back open and begins to play again, something Louis recognizes but could never name. In the hall, there’s the unmistakable sound of footsteps coming towards them, and a door on the opposite side of the room is tapped open. “Zaynie,” Liam’s lilting voice floats through the air as he peers into the room, spotting Louis in surprise and beaming. He always looks so pleased when he finds Louis with the other boys, like all he desires is for them all to be one happy family. Louis isn’t sure of the likelihood of that, but he supposes they’re all alright lads and he could be doing worse for company. “Sorry, didn’t mean to interrupt, just coming to get Zayn for dinner,” Liam says apologetically. Over the past two days, Louis has come to the conclusion that Zayn and Liam are friends with a lot of pent up sexual tension. It’s maybe a bit odd because isn’t Liam Zayn’s manager or something? But then again, they can’t be more than a year or so apart and that’s more acceptable than some of the relationships he’s seen in his day. Either way, they always seem to linger close to each other, and Zayn always seems the most normal -- or least weird? -- when he’s speaking to Liam. Almost softer and more vulnerable. Louis wonders if he’s the only one aware of the chemistry between them or if Niall is equally pained and also thinks they need to be locked up till they screw each other. Anyways, that’s not his business. He’s here for work, he’s polite and professional and does not care about anybody’s personal life, no ma’am. “So, um, dinnertime, if anyone’s interested,” Liam reminds them, breaking the silence.” “Course,” Zayn shuts the piano and stands, dusting his hands on his pants and going to Liam’s side. “But, I really didn’t mean to interrupt, if you’re playing for Louis and-” Liam looks anxious as ever that he’s done wrong by someone, but Zayn cuts him off smoothly. “It’s nothing, darling, you’re fine.” Darling? Darling? Fuck, Zayn’s so gone for him, Louis should just leave the room right now so they can get it on. “Louis? You coming to eat?” “Of course,” Louis smiles, acting like he’s not mentally barging into their private lives. “What’re we having?” “Friend chicken,” Liam replies. “I believe Niall’s started without us, but that’s typical Niall. Sure enough, Niall’s already slouched in his seat with a drumstick in hand, looking properly pleased. Then again, he always does. “Oi, nice of you to join me, lads.” “Niall, I told you I was going to get them and come right back, it’s not as if I’ve been ages.” “Anything’s ages when there’s a plate of chicken in front of you, mate.” Liam shakes his head, but Louis is inclined to agree, and pulls out a chair, helping himself to food hungrily. It’s a good thing there’s a gym on the premises here, because Louis eats half his weight in incredible food every day here. I mean, he’s yet to actually go see the gym himself but...it is there should he ever need it. “So tomorrow,” Liam begins, cutting his chicken neatly with a fork and knife -- and yeah, Louis gets that he’s supposed to be the adult, and a good influence, but who eats fried chicken with a fork? “Tomorrow we’ve got a couple things to do.” “Ah, fuck,” Niall groans, throwing down his napkin. “We have actual things to do? I like it when Harry leaves and everything gets halted, I’ve adjusted to my life in the swimming pool with no responsibilities.” “Niall, could you just listen without talking for once?” “What’s in it for me?” “More chicken,” Liam slides the platter to him, and Niall grabs a couple more pieces, looking satisfied. “As I was saying, tomorrow you have press to do. Three interviews, back to back, then you’re both heading to the set to do reshoots for last week’s taping.” “What we gotta do reshoots for?” Niall mumbles through a mouth full of chicken. “The writers have decided to change the original plan, they’ve cut the scene in the grocery store, and added something else, I can’t remember what. They’ve forwarded me copies of the revised script, which I have printed for you both.” “Thank god,” Zayn shudders. “The grocery store scene was atrocious, I think I’d quit if I had to reshoot anything to do with that.” “I liked that scene,” Niall mumbles sulkily and Zayn creases his eyebrows. “You like anything where you have to be loud and publicly humiliating.” “Yeah, that’s why I accepted a job as a fucking Disney star, why are you here then?” “I really don’t know sometimes,” the darker boy replies dryly. He turns to Liam again. “How are we supposed to give interviews without Harry on _his show_?” “Don’t discredit yourself, you and Niall are just as much main characters as Harry is,” Liam says kindly and Niall shakes his head in disbelief. “It’s called ‘Sincerely, Luke’ not ‘Sincerely, Charlie’, not “Sincerely, Finley’ -- although, ‘Sincerely, Finley’ sounds great, got a ring to it, yeah? Perhaps we can rework the show to cut Harry from it since he fucking hates it anyways.” A tangible silence falls around the table and Niall seems to realize he’s said too much, and coughs to fill the sudden hush. “Er, anyways. Interviews sound fun, just me and you Zayn, eh?” “Fantastic.” Dinner is somewhat quiet after that. Even Niall doesn’t really speak. He can probably feel the quiet judgement from Liam, because Louis certainly can. If anyone would tell him what’s actually going on with Harry, Niall would. Maybe Louis should try to get him drunk so he spills his secrets. On second thought, Niall is seventeen, and they’re in America, so it’s not even legal for Louis to be drinking here, so he’d probably get thrown in jail for that. All four of them are finishing up, one of the housekeepers -- Louis isn’t sure of her name, which makes him feel guilty -- has just come in with her little trolley to collect dishes, when a commotion in the foyer interrupts the quiet calm of the house. “They’re not in the car, Peter, I don’t fucking have any bags! No, just let me inside, give it up.” The front door closes too loudly and there’s a storm of aggravated footsteps. “Liam! Where are you, I’ve-” A tall figure appears in the door and the entire room falls dead silent. Well, if it isn’t Harry Styles. The first thing Louis thinks is he’s a lot taller in person. He’s a lot of everything in person. Onscreen, the picture of innocence, with his coiffed hair and little boy-bander outfits, but now Harry stands before them looking disheveled. His hair falls in loose, messy curls, almost to his shoulders, which is an infinitely better look, Louis has to admit. His black silk shirt is unbuttoned, revealing half of his chest. He has a lot of tattoos for a Disney star Louis thinks vaguely. This person isn’t even close to the peppy boy next door that Fizzy fonds after, he’s so far from that that Louis is almost sure he’s meant to be somewhere else. The room is still silent, and Louis is painfully aware of everyone else being painfully aware that this is probably not how he was supposed to meet sweet little child star Harry. Niall is looking at Liam and Liam is looking at Harry and Harry is looking at Louis and nobody seems to be able to say a thing. “Who’s this?” Harry demands, waving his hand at Louis. His voice is different than Louis remembers. British, for one thing, unlike the fake American accent that apparently everyone on that show has, but darker too, like he’s just woken up and he’s still exhausted. Liam stands up quickly. “Harry, I didn’t - no one told me you were headed back, I would have waited on dinner for you.” “I don’t want-” “No matter, how about we go upstairs and get you situated home again,” Liam cuts him off roughly, which is out of character, and seizes Harry by the arm, practically dragging the boy away. Niall clears his throat, which is about as relieving as if he’d said ‘well, isn’t this just fucking awkward.” “Er, well, great dinner, that was, yeah?” Louis nods, simply to have something to do. Zayn pushes his chair back, standing up. “Harry’s tired, he’s just come back from travelling,” he says, in a valiant attempt to ease the tension. “It’s nothing, happens to the best of us. Niall, why don’t you show Louis the theater in the basement?” “Where are you going then?” Niall demands. “Because if it’s about Harry I want-” “Harry is fine,” Zayn says sharply, coming as close as Louis has seen him so far to breaking his smooth character. “He’s fine. There’s nothing that needs to be done. I’m just tired, I’m heading up to bed.” “It’s 7pm.” “Niall, just take him.” Niall clearly feels sufficiently threatened, because he pushes his chair out huffily and stands up. “C’mon Louis, we have to go watch a movie.” Under probably any other circumstances, Louis would have no problem going to lounge around in someone’s home theater, but now he’s quickly trying to come up with some semi-valid reason to stay up here and try to overhear something that will tell him what’s going on, because clearly something is going on. Zayn nods encouragingly at Louis. “Go on, we have loads of films, you have to check it out.” Feeling like his chances of staying and not coming off as suspicious are slim to nothing, Louis stands up reluctantly. “Sure, yeah, I’d love to go see that.” --- Louis had to sit through the entirety of The Parent Trap before he was able to make his excuses and slip away. Yes, The Parent Trap, because apparently Niall is literally six years old. Okay, so maybe Louis actually likes that movie and he found it endearing that out of everything, Niall selected that, but the point is that he didn't want to watch any movie, he wanted to be upstairs lingering to figure out what's really going on. By the time the movie finished, it was nearly 9pm and Louis could pull the old 'so sorry, but it's the jet lag...I should head to bed, my apologies' and head up both flights of stairs to the third level of the house where his room is located. This is his third day here, he knows exactly how to get to his room. Up the stairs, to the left, down the hall. But this time... this time, he could take a right, to the other wing. The other wing that he's never been to but he'd wager anything that that's where the other boys rooms are. Which means that's where Liam dragged Harry up to. And by God, Louis just wants to know what the deal with Harry is. Don't do it, he chides himself. Go to bed and mind yourself like your mother taught you. Well… his mum's not here now, is she? He's in a different country all by himself and he's tired, so that'll justify all the bad decisions he's about to make. Louis heads down the hall, forcing himself to walk quietly but not tiptoe. Obviously, he doesn't want to be heard, but tiptoeing is inherently suspicious and if someone were to spot him doing that, he'd be caught right away. Come on, it's not as if he hasn't thought this through at all. He finds himself at a corridor with four doors, nearly identical to the one in the other wing that houses his own bedroom. One door, leading to a bathroom, is ajar, but the other three are shut tight. Not right enough to prevent muffled discussion from drifting into the hall though, and Louis resists the urge to smile devilishly. This is too easy. He pads quietly to the door at the end of the hall, sourcing the noise from there and leans against the wall on the other side of the door, so if someone should open it suddenly he'd have a split second to run for cover without being seen. Louis closes his eyes and and allows himself to tune into the conversation inside the room. "- really could care less, Liam, this wasn't my fucking idea-" "It's what we collectively decided was best," Liam's voice cuts over the other one, which almost definitely belongs to Harry. "You agreed to this, so just go out there and meet him properly, make a good impression, Harry, it doesn't have to be this difficult." "And he doesn't have to be here!" Harry hisses. "In the house, I -" there's the sound of someone pacing the floor almost frantically. "I don't want him in the house." "He's a lovely lad, really, if you'd only-" "I don't fucking want him in the house, Liam!" Harry almost shouts, and Liam desperately trying to hush him can be heard from outside the room. Louis wrinkles his nose, though he's semi aware no one is around to see his display of distaste. This Harry kid seems like precisely the kind of diva Louis was hoping to avoid. And it's a shame because the other boys seem so decent. Imagine getting mad at someone who's flown thousands of miles, away from his family, to be here upon your team's request, Louis simply cannot comprehend. He could just take his extraordinary photography skills and leave, he hopes Harry knows that. He doesn't need to stand and listen to this. Partially out of fear of getting caught, and partially because there's no mystery to be solved. Harry's a spoiled child star and Liam is too good to him, working overtime trying to protect the kid's reputation. It's glaringly obvious even to Louis as a newcomer. And he wishes he could say he's surprised, maybe he even got his hopes up because Liam and Zayn and Niall are nice enough lads, but when it all comes down to it, this is exactly what Louis expected in the first place. Louis ducks back into his room, changing quickly into sweats and pretending that he’s been in his room getting ready for bed all along. He takes a seat at the desk against a far wall and pulls a postcard from the stack neatly tucked in a drawer and starts addressing it to his Doncaster home. The younger girls like getting letters and things from him, and he promised he’d send them as much as possible, so here he is, following through like the good brother he is. He’s just signing off with many hearts and smiley faces when there’s a tap on his door, making him look up. “Come in,” Louis calls. The door opens and Louis is taken aback to see Harry hovering in the doorway. He was expecting Niall or one of the other boys, if anyone. He stands up, shoving his cheesy notes to his sisters aside and trying to look as put together as one can in trackies and an old T-shirt. “Uh, hi, um, can I...help you?” Louis trails off, flustered. “I just wanted to apologize for earlier,” Harry says, face completely devoid of emotion. “The things jetlag will do to you, yeah?” he smiles, perfect and white and for some reason, extremely unsettling. Instead of enhancing his features, as one’s smile usually does, it makes him look almost plastic, like one of those little Ken dolls the twins are always toting around with their Barbies. “Right,” Louis says, wondering if Harry is really going to pretend like he wasn’t just cussing Louis out for being in this house. “Anyways, it’s excellent to have you here. I’m sure Liam’s filled you in on everything, so, I’ll leave you to it. Just wanted to say hello and give you my regards,” Harry nods curtly and backs out, shutting the door before Louis can even get another word in. He sits back down at his desk, a bit thrown. That wasn’t even a proper introduction, no names exchanged, no hands shaken, it’s as if Harry’s barely following through with the minimum effort possible simply to say he did. What a joyous person he’s turning out to be. Perhaps it’s not too late to turn around and head home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey kids and children, sorry this update took so long. I have no excuses besides I literally just did not feel like uploading. It was written and everything I just couldn't be bothered. My bad 🤪
> 
> The song for this chapter is Starring Role by MARINA cause Harry arrives at the end and that's totally his anthem. 
> 
> Hope everyone is staying home safe xoxo


	6. Chapter 6

The next two days are the most carefree and unconcerned of Louis’ entire life. Liam came to him the first morning after he’d arrived and extremely apologetically informed him that Harry won’t be returning for a couple days after all, so they’ve postponed filming anything till then, but Louis is free to do whatever he pleases till then, and if he needs anything at all to please find Liam and tell him. Louis agrees, almost wanting to tell him it’s not that big of a deal and Liam doesn’t need to look so completely stressed, but he supposes he doesn’t really know how big of a deal it is. Perhaps Harry’s really sick and he should feel bad for him and everyone involved for having to deal with this. Either way, he has the next days to himself and he’s not going to sulk about that. He spends a lot of the time in his room watching movies because this place has every streaming platform you could ever want, and then some. When Louis gets tired of that, he goes downstairs and eventually gets roped into catapulting off of trampolines into one of the massive swimming pools with Niall, whose laugh is infectious. He’s impossible not to like. Louis takes his camera and wanders through the sunny grounds, taking pictures of flowers and dewdrops just to flex his photography muscles. He calls his mum and sisters three times, telling them about his flight and what LA is like, and showing them a bit of the house. Not too much though, because Louis isn’t sure what sort of privacy restrictions he’s bound to. Fizzy is crushed when she hears that Louis and Harry haven’t hit it off yet -- mostly because Harry has yet to show his face. She tells him not to call back until he’s friends with Harry, prompting Jay to chide the younger girl. After getting a sufficient amount of FaceTiming with his family, he takes another shower, just because he can. He naps before dinner, and then joins the other boys to eat. It’s more lively this team around, ice having been broken yesterday, and the tense silence around Harry’s absence seems to have ebbed away slightly. Louis talks of home and his family there, which makes Zayn and Liam recall their homes in England fondly, and Louis is glad to see that Zayn can reminisce and be generally nostalgic like that. Perhaps Liam was right about him being different than he is at face value. Niall just shakes his head at all of their talk and stubbornly maintains that ‘Ireland is the best country in the world, everyone knows that’. He sleeps like a baby in that oversized, feather soft bed, knowing that tomorrow is another day of leisure and lack of responsibility. When he wakes, Louis takes his third shower, doing a facemask beforehand this time, and emerges reenergized with dewy skin to boot. He explores the library, which Niall made out to be small, but it’s actually sizable. He eats his lunch there, reading a Dean Koontz thriller to pass time. Eventually he gets bored and debates calling his mum and sisters again, but decides to go outside instead, to see if there’s anything worth doing out there. Niall’s by the pool again -- Louis isn’t sure he ever leaves -- so he stays out there with him, practicing backflips and cannonballs. When he’s all tired out, Louis selects a comfortable looking lounge chair and snoozes in the sun, glad for absolutely nothing to do. By late afternoon, maybe mid evening, Louis has lost track of time, the sun is starting to dip low, bathing the city in a golden glow, and Louis’ skin feels slightly too warm, so he decides to get up and head inside, in search of human interaction. That’s the one downside, it’s easy to get lonely in such a massive place. Through the wide sliding doors, the house is cool and dim compared to the sweltering, bright heat of outdoors. Soft piano music floats through the foyer, and Louis follows it curiously down the hall and to a door, propped ajar just barely. He peaks in, wondering if it's pre-recorded, or if someone's actually in there playing, and sure enough, there's Zayn sat poker straight on the bench and staring straight ahead, eyes never dipping to see what his hands are doing on the keys, and yet, he never seems to miss a note. "Louis." The music stops abruptly and Zayn glances at the door, where Louis was sure he couldn't even be seen. Perhaps Zayn is omniscient. "Come in." "Hi," Louis breathes as he steps into the room, slightly embarrassed at having interrupted Zayn needlessly twice now. "Sorry, I wanted to see where the music was coming from. I uh, I didn't know you played." "There's a lot of things you don't know about me, Louis, we've known each other for two days," a ghost of a smile plays on his lips and Louis is pretty sure that was Zayn's version of a joke. "Yeah, s'pose that's true," he agrees. Zayn shuts the piano, sliding the cover down over the keys smoothly and crosses his legs. "I've played since I was four years old. My Mum wanted me too, she said it was proper. Course, then I went and did a few not so proper things after that, so that was a bit pointless. I can play well though, so I suppose it wasn't all together pointless." "I'd give anything to play. Wanted lessons when I was little desperately, but we couldn't afford them. So everything I know is by ear, can't even read music. You're lucky, really." "Oh, I know. I actually do like playing, I can honestly say that. Perhaps I'll retire from acting and become a pianist." "The other day you said you wanted to be a gardener," Louis points out. Zayn waves his hand dismissively. "Gardening is so dull when you think about it, it's a thing of the past. Art, music, that will always be our future." "Who's to say you can't do both, and more?" "Touche, mate,” the raven-haired boy slides the piano back open and begins to play again, something Louis recognizes but could never name. In the hall, there’s the unmistakable sound of footsteps coming towards them, and a door on the opposite side of the room is tapped open. “Zaynie,” Liam’s lilting voice floats through the air as he peers into the room, spotting Louis in surprise and beaming. He always looks so pleased when he finds Louis with the other boys, like all he desires is for them all to be one happy family. Louis isn’t sure of the likelihood of that, but he supposes they’re all alright lads and he could be doing worse for company. “Sorry, didn’t mean to interrupt, just coming to get Zayn for dinner,” Liam says apologetically. Over the past two days, Louis has come to the conclusion that Zayn and Liam are friends with a lot of pent up sexual tension. It’s maybe a bit odd because isn’t Liam Zayn’s manager or something? But then again, they can’t be more than a year or so apart and that’s more acceptable than some of the relationships he’s seen in his day. Either way, they always seem to linger close to each other, and Zayn always seems the most normal -- or least weird? -- when he’s speaking to Liam. Almost softer and more vulnerable. Louis wonders if he’s the only one aware of the chemistry between them or if Niall is equally pained and also thinks they need to be locked up till they screw each other. Anyways, that’s not his business. He’s here for work, he’s polite and professional and does not care about anybody’s personal life, no ma’am. “So, um, dinnertime, if anyone’s interested,” Liam reminds them, breaking the silence.” “Course,” Zayn shuts the piano and stands, dusting his hands on his pants and going to Liam’s side. “But, I really didn’t mean to interrupt, if you’re playing for Louis and-” Liam looks anxious as ever that he’s done wrong by someone, but Zayn cuts him off smoothly. “It’s nothing, darling, you’re fine.” Darling? Darling? Fuck, Zayn’s so gone for him, Louis should just leave the room right now so they can get it on. “Louis? You coming to eat?” “Of course,” Louis smiles, acting like he’s not mentally barging into their private lives. “What’re we having?” “Friend chicken,” Liam replies. “I believe Niall’s started without us, but that’s typical Niall. Sure enough, Niall’s already slouched in his seat with a drumstick in hand, looking properly pleased. Then again, he always does. “Oi, nice of you to join me, lads.” “Niall, I told you I was going to get them and come right back, it’s not as if I’ve been ages.” “Anything’s ages when there’s a plate of chicken in front of you, mate.” Liam shakes his head, but Louis is inclined to agree, and pulls out a chair, helping himself to food hungrily. It’s a good thing there’s a gym on the premises here, because Louis eats half his weight in incredible food every day here. I mean, he’s yet to actually go see the gym himself but...it is there should he ever need it. “So tomorrow,” Liam begins, cutting his chicken neatly with a fork and knife -- and yeah, Louis gets that he’s supposed to be the adult, and a good influence, but who eats fried chicken with a fork? “Tomorrow we’ve got a couple things to do.” “Ah, fuck,” Niall groans, throwing down his napkin. “We have actual things to do? I like it when Harry leaves and everything gets halted, I’ve adjusted to my life in the swimming pool with no responsibilities.” “Niall, could you just listen without talking for once?” “What’s in it for me?” “More chicken,” Liam slides the platter to him, and Niall grabs a couple more pieces, looking satisfied. “As I was saying, tomorrow you have press to do. Three interviews, back to back, then you’re both heading to the set to do reshoots for last week’s taping.” “What we gotta do reshoots for?” Niall mumbles through a mouth full of chicken. “The writers have decided to change the original plan, they’ve cut the scene in the grocery store, and added something else, I can’t remember what. They’ve forwarded me copies of the revised script, which I have printed for you both.” “Thank god,” Zayn shudders. “The grocery store scene was atrocious, I think I’d quit if I had to reshoot anything to do with that.” “I liked that scene,” Niall mumbles sulkily and Zayn creases his eyebrows. “You like anything where you have to be loud and publicly humiliating.” “Yeah, that’s why I accepted a job as a fucking Disney star, why are you here then?” “I really don’t know sometimes,” the darker boy replies dryly. He turns to Liam again. “How are we supposed to give interviews without Harry on _his show_?” “Don’t discredit yourself, you and Niall are just as much main characters as Harry is,” Liam says kindly and Niall shakes his head in disbelief. “It’s called ‘Sincerely, Luke’ not ‘Sincerely, Charlie’, not “Sincerely, Finley’ -- although, ‘Sincerely, Finley’ sounds great, got a ring to it, yeah? Perhaps we can rework the show to cut Harry from it since he fucking hates it anyways.” A tangible silence falls around the table and Niall seems to realize he’s said too much, and coughs to fill the sudden hush. “Er, anyways. Interviews sound fun, just me and you Zayn, eh?” “Fantastic.” Dinner is somewhat quiet after that. Even Niall doesn’t really speak. He can probably feel the quiet judgement from Liam, because Louis certainly can. If anyone would tell him what’s actually going on with Harry, Niall would. Maybe Louis should try to get him drunk so he spills his secrets. On second thought, Niall is seventeen, and they’re in America, so it’s not even legal for Louis to be drinking here, so he’d probably get thrown in jail for that. All four of them are finishing up, one of the housekeepers -- Louis isn’t sure of her name, which makes him feel guilty -- has just come in with her little trolley to collect dishes, when a commotion in the foyer interrupts the quiet calm of the house. “They’re not in the car, Peter, I don’t fucking have any bags! No, just let me inside, give it up.” The front door closes too loudly and there’s a storm of aggravated footsteps. “Liam! Where are you, I’ve-” A tall figure appears in the door and the entire room falls dead silent. Well, if it isn’t Harry Styles. The first thing Louis thinks is he’s a lot taller in person. He’s a lot of everything in person. Onscreen, the picture of innocence, with his coiffed hair and little boy-bander outfits, but now Harry stands before them looking disheveled. His hair falls in loose, messy curls, almost to his shoulders, which is an infinitely better look, Louis has to admit. His black silk shirt is unbuttoned, revealing half of his chest. He has a lot of tattoos for a Disney star Louis thinks vaguely. This person isn’t even close to the peppy boy next door that Fizzy fonds after, he’s so far from that that Louis is almost sure he’s meant to be somewhere else. The room is still silent, and Louis is painfully aware of everyone else being painfully aware that this is probably not how he was supposed to meet sweet little child star Harry. Niall is looking at Liam and Liam is looking at Harry and Harry is looking at Louis and nobody seems to be able to say a thing. “Who’s this?” Harry demands, waving his hand at Louis. His voice is different than Louis remembers. British, for one thing, unlike the fake American accent that apparently everyone on that show has, but darker too, like he’s just woken up and he’s still exhausted. Liam stands up quickly. “Harry, I didn’t - no one told me you were headed back, I would have waited on dinner for you.” “I don’t want-” “No matter, how about we go upstairs and get you situated home again,” Liam cuts him off roughly, which is out of character, and seizes Harry by the arm, practically dragging the boy away. Niall clears his throat, which is about as relieving as if he’d said ‘well, isn’t this just fucking awkward.” “Er, well, great dinner, that was, yeah?” Louis nods, simply to have something to do. Zayn pushes his chair back, standing up. “Harry’s tired, he’s just come back from travelling,” he says, in a valiant attempt to ease the tension. “It’s nothing, happens to the best of us. Niall, why don’t you show Louis the theater in the basement?” “Where are you going then?” Niall demands. “Because if it’s about Harry I want-” “Harry is fine,” Zayn says sharply, coming as close as Louis has seen him so far to breaking his smooth character. “He’s fine. There’s nothing that needs to be done. I’m just tired, I’m heading up to bed.” “It’s 7pm.” “Niall, just take him.” Niall clearly feels sufficiently threatened, because he pushes his chair out huffily and stands up. “C’mon Louis, we have to go watch a movie.” Under probably any other circumstances, Louis would have no problem going to lounge around in someone’s home theater, but now he’s quickly trying to come up with some semi-valid reason to stay up here and try to overhear something that will tell him what’s going on, because clearly something is going on. Zayn nods encouragingly at Louis. “Go on, we have loads of films, you have to check it out.” Feeling like his chances of staying and not coming off as suspicious are slim to nothing, Louis stands up reluctantly. “Sure, yeah, I’d love to go see that.” --- Louis had to sit through the entirety of The Parent Trap before he was able to make his excuses and slip away. Yes, The Parent Trap, because apparently Niall is literally six years old. Okay, so maybe Louis actually likes that movie and he found it endearing that out of everything, Niall selected that, but the point is that he didn't want to watch any movie, he wanted to be upstairs lingering to figure out what's really going on. By the time the movie finished, it was nearly 9pm and Louis could pull the old 'so sorry, but it's the jet lag...I should head to bed, my apologies' and head up both flights of stairs to the third level of the house where his room is located. This is his third day here, he knows exactly how to get to his room. Up the stairs, to the left, down the hall. But this time... this time, he could take a right, to the other wing. The other wing that he's never been to but he'd wager anything that that's where the other boys rooms are. Which means that's where Liam dragged Harry up to. And by God, Louis just wants to know what the deal with Harry is. Don't do it, he chides himself. Go to bed and mind yourself like your mother taught you. Well… his mum's not here now, is she? He's in a different country all by himself and he's tired, so that'll justify all the bad decisions he's about to make. Louis heads down the hall, forcing himself to walk quietly but not tiptoe. Obviously, he doesn't want to be heard, but tiptoeing is inherently suspicious and if someone were to spot him doing that, he'd be caught right away. Come on, it's not as if he hasn't thought this through at all. He finds himself at a corridor with four doors, nearly identical to the one in the other wing that houses his own bedroom. One door, leading to a bathroom, is ajar, but the other three are shut tight. Not right enough to prevent muffled discussion from drifting into the hall though, and Louis resists the urge to smile devilishly. This is too easy. He pads quietly to the door at the end of the hall, sourcing the noise from there and leans against the wall on the other side of the door, so if someone should open it suddenly he'd have a split second to run for cover without being seen. Louis closes his eyes and and allows himself to tune into the conversation inside the room. "- really could care less, Liam, this wasn't my fucking idea-" "It's what we collectively decided was best," Liam's voice cuts over the other one, which almost definitely belongs to Harry. "You agreed to this, so just go out there and meet him properly, make a good impression, Harry, it doesn't have to be this difficult." "And he doesn't have to be here!" Harry hisses. "In the house, I -" there's the sound of someone pacing the floor almost frantically. "I don't want him in the house." "He's a lovely lad, really, if you'd only-" "I don't fucking want him in the house, Liam!" Harry almost shouts, and Liam desperately trying to hush him can be heard from outside the room. Louis wrinkles his nose, though he's semi aware no one is around to see his display of distaste. This Harry kid seems like precisely the kind of diva Louis was hoping to avoid. And it's a shame because the other boys seem so decent. Imagine getting mad at someone who's flown thousands of miles, away from his family, to be here upon your team's request, Louis simply cannot comprehend. He could just take his extraordinary photography skills and leave, he hopes Harry knows that. He doesn't need to stand and listen to this. Partially out of fear of getting caught, and partially because there's no mystery to be solved. Harry's a spoiled child star and Liam is too good to him, working overtime trying to protect the kid's reputation. It's glaringly obvious even to Louis as a newcomer. And he wishes he could say he's surprised, maybe he even got his hopes up because Liam and Zayn and Niall are nice enough lads, but when it all comes down to it, this is exactly what Louis expected in the first place. Louis ducks back into his room, changing quickly into sweats and pretending that he’s been in his room getting ready for bed all along. He takes a seat at the desk against a far wall and pulls a postcard from the stack neatly tucked in a drawer and starts addressing it to his Doncaster home. The younger girls like getting letters and things from him, and he promised he’d send them as much as possible, so here he is, following through like the good brother he is. He’s just signing off with many hearts and smiley faces when there’s a tap on his door, making him look up. “Come in,” Louis calls. The door opens and Louis is taken aback to see Harry hovering in the doorway. He was expecting Niall or one of the other boys, if anyone. He stands up, shoving his cheesy notes to his sisters aside and trying to look as put together as one can in trackies and an old T-shirt. “Uh, hi, um, can I...help you?” Louis trails off, flustered. “I just wanted to apologize for earlier,” Harry says, face completely devoid of emotion. “The things jetlag will do to you, yeah?” he smiles, perfect and white and for some reason, extremely unsettling. Instead of enhancing his features, as one’s smile usually does, it makes him look almost plastic, like one of those little Ken dolls the twins are always toting around with their Barbies. “Right,” Louis says, wondering if Harry is really going to pretend like he wasn’t just cussing Louis out for being in this house. “Anyways, it’s excellent to have you here. I’m sure Liam’s filled you in on everything, so, I’ll leave you to it. Just wanted to say hello and give you my regards,” Harry nods curtly and backs out, shutting the door before Louis can even get another word in. He sits back down at his desk, a bit thrown. That wasn’t even a proper introduction, no names exchanged, no hands shaken, it’s as if Harry’s barely following through with the minimum effort possible simply to say he did. What a joyous person he’s turning out to be. Perhaps it’s not too late to turn around and head home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey kids and children, sorry this update took so long. I have no excuses besides I literally just did not feel like uploading. It was written and everything I just couldn't be bothered. My bad 🤪
> 
> The song for this chapter is Starring Role by MARINA cause Harry arrives at the end and that's totally his anthem. 
> 
> Hope everyone is staying home safe xoxo


	7. Chapter 7

The next morning is the first where life in the house with all the other boys reaches a level of chaos from the start. Louis supposes Liam warned him on the drive back from the airport on his first day, but then nothing happened after that and he grew spoiled in several long, warm days of careless freedom. 

Today, today the real shit starts.

Louis isn’t used to being woken by commotion outside his room, but he doesn’t think much of it, deciding they’re probably all just trying to get ready for their day doing press or whatever Liam told them about last night. He takes a shower, shaves and gets dressed before heading down the stairs and that’s when he’s really thrown off for the first time. The dining room, usually fairly peaceful, is a sight for sore eyes. 

Niall is dribbling a ball up and down the length of the room with a tart in hand, which, if Louis is being honest, is fairly in character and he might have been inclined to overlook it if it weren’t for the other things happening around them. Zayn’s sitting cross-legged on the table, which is laden with breakfast, looking as artfully poised as ever, save for the fact that he’s, well, perched on the dining table. Harry’s sprawled in a chair pushed slightly away from the table, with his arm around a perky little blonde who’s probably about his age -- where did she come from? Louis hasn’t seen her once in his life, but now she’s curled around Harry like an overzealous octopus. Equally as off-putting as the random chick is the cigarette balanced in between Harry’s pink lips, which he occasionally passes to Zayn, blowing smoke in his face as he does so.

And yeah, Louis gets it, he’s been known to go smoke when he’s tired or bored too, but not in the damn house and not before breakfast. Besides, Zayn’s seventeen, that’s too young to be sitting on a table with a cigarette at 8am. And fuck, isn’t Harry younger? Louis swears he remembers Fizzy telling him that, though now he’s not sure and it’s impossible to tell anyways because everyone looks so much older than their actual age in this place. Anybody in this could plausibly be anywhere from sixteen to twenty five and if he didn’t know better, he’d believe it.

“Louis!” Niall cheers when he spots him. “You play footie? C’mere.”

“Niall, let the man eat,” Zayn chides. 

“And why can’t you do both at the same time?” Niall demands through a mouth of food. “You gotta learn how to multitask in this crazy life.”

The door from the hall opens and Liam comes in, talking into the phone with an annoyed expression and gesticulating wildly as he does so. “Yes, yes. Absolutely. It’s just- no, sir. No sir. If I could just- right. Okay, of course. Yes that sounds wonderful. Alright thank you. Goodbye now.”

He sets the phone down, running his fingers through his neat hair. “Right then. Lads, the car is coming in twenty minutes, you all need to clean up and be ready to go,” Liam eyes the cigarette being passed back and forth between Harry and Zayn and for a second it looks like he’s going to say something, but he shuts his mouth, apparently giving up and rounding on Louis instead. “Louis, today all you’ll need to do is just follow around while the boys do their thing and snap pictures as you see fit. The insiders glimpse, that’s what we’re going for. You’ll get to head the onset of the show with them later, so just shadow Harry and capture what it’s like to be him, alright?” he plasters a smile on his face, looking tired already and it’s hardly morning. Louis wonders how exhausting it is daily to be a handler to these three on a daily basis.

“Right, sounds great. Excited to start,” Louis says, helping himself to a scone and trying to pretend like he doesn’t see Harry passively watching his every move. It’s not a lie, but it’s not altogether truthful. He’s excited to go on a real TV set and behind the scenes at interviews and all of that, but something about his sole purpose being to worship the very steps Harry takes is rubbing him the wrong way. He’s fairly sure both he and Harry are acutely aware that they both wish the other one wasn’t here. Louis isn’t great at hiding his feelings, his face reads like a book, which is usually why he goes for the swaggering, devil may care attitude, so that he can pretend all of those thoughts and feelings don’t matter and neither does anyone else’s opinion of him, but he hasn’t had a chance to be that blustering, uncaring person with Harry yet, and the crawling annoyance of it is getting under his skin.  
Louis needs to throw up those emotional defense mechanisms and he needs to throw them up fast before Harry thinks he knows anything about Louis at all.

\---

The car ride to the studio where they’re taping interviews is chaotic. There are seven seats, but for whatever reason, Niall selects to sit in the very back next to Louis, and throw his legs in his lap, which nearly crushes Louis’ camera. Harry and Zayn sit in the two middle section seats, with Liam up front by the driver. Zayn and Harry have discarded their cigarette, and changed clothes so they now look strangely out of character. Very different from the moody, smoking boys of this morning. Before they got into the car, Harry kissed that blonde girl goodbye, so Louis is assuming she’s his girlfriend. She seems frankly annoying and clingy, but he supposes some people are into that. 

Liam rattles on about scheduling at the head of the car, reading off of the notes in his phone. Niall mocks him quietly in various oddly accurate accents, so only Louis can hear, and as much as he likes Liam, Louis has to laugh at the blonde’s antics

“Okay and lastly, Louis, mate,” Liam reaches back, waving a clipboard that Zayn takes and passes to Louis. “I just need you to sign all three of those pages after you read through them.”

“What is it?” Louis asks, scanning and seeing a lot of important looking terms that his brain isn’t hardwired to pay attention to.

“Non-disclosure agreement,” Liam informs him, tossing a pen back. “A Hollywood essential. Anything that happens surrounding or involving myself, Niall, Harry and Zayn that isn’t already public knowledge is considered confidential information and, once you sign that, cannot be discussed, written about, or in any other way, shape or form disclosed by you to anyone without consent from all parties and their management teams. And then it outlines the terms of your photography work, the production team owns rights to any pictures you take while you’re here and can choose if and when to publish them, you can't publish, post or release anything without their consent blah blah blah, it’s pretty straightforward. Just keep your head down and mind your own business essentially.”

“What they’re saying, Louis, is that if you see Zayn doing nude yoga in the morning, you can’t tell anyone or take pictures,” Niall chortles and Zayn makes a face of disgust. 

“I don’t do that, it’s you and your skinny dipping management is trying to protect, Niall.”

“I have nothing to hide, Zaynie,” the blonde retorts smoothly. “I am a gift and if the world should be so honored to see me in my most natural habitat, they would be thanking me.”

“Keep telling yourself that,” Harry murmurs to Niall, rubbing his eyes with the backs of his hands.

His response is the first thing Louis has heard him say all day, and once again he’s thrown by how low his voice is. It doesn’t match his face at all.

Louis does his best to scan the contract, looking for any red flags or suspicious legal restraints, but it all starts to look the same about a page and a half in, so he signs where he needs to and passes it back up to Liam, hoping he didn’t just legally bind himself to anything terrible.

If he did, he can deal with that later. The car has slowed to a crawl and Louis is startled to look up and find that outside is becoming a bit of a frenzy. There’s a group of people -- mainly teenaged girls -- starting to crowd alongside the vehicle, making it difficult to move forwards. The driver is beginning to look a little anxious. 

“Just get us to the barrier, Charles,” Liam is telling him. “To the barrier and security will pull us through, but the boys can’t get out like this, they’ll be stampeded.”

Louis is frozen in place. All they were supposed to be doing is going into a studio and taping interviews, and now they’re being surrounded by people pressing up against the car and tapping on the windows, and everything about it makes Louis’ skin crawl. It’s dehumanizing, is what it is. Is this what it’s like every time these boys go out? They really live like this? He looks around the car to gauge the other boys reactions, but there virtually aren't any. Niall is picking dirt from under his nails, Zayn is resting his chin in his palm, scrolling through his phone, and Harry seems to have zoned out, looking at the headrest of Liam’s seat in front of him and swaying slightly with the motion of the car. All of them not even the slightest bit bothered. 

And Louis thinks he could not be more out of his depth here. Except he’s already signed the contracts so now it really is too late to back out. This is his life now.

They pull up cautiously to a section of pavement that’s closed off with those portable metal railings, forming a clear path from the car to the big double doors that mark the back entrance to the studio. Throngs of people are starting to form on either side of the barriers, and Louis secretly worries that those gates don’t look very sturdy and this day could mark the day he gets trampled by thirsty tween girls.

“Okay, okay, I see Edward, yes he’s there, wait for the nod...okay, boys, security’s ready to take us through,” Liam nods, glancing back at the others. “Come on.”

As they all unbuckle, Niall glances over at him, grinning. “First fan stampede?”

“I’ve never even met a real celebrity till this week,” Louis says weakly and Niall claps him on the back.

“Just keep your head down and don’t say anything. Oh and next time...bring sunglasses so they can’t see your eyes. It agitates them.”

Louis is pretty sure Niall is joking with the last one, but this is Niall’s world not his so he can’t be sure. All he can be is worried. Worried as Liam nods at the security guards to open the doors, worried as the cheering voices increase by a tenfold when Zayn steps out, followed quickly by Harry, then Niall, and Louis taking the rear. The walkway is too narrow, and the shouting too loud. Grabby hands reach out, desperate to touch, just to say they did. Louis is sort of smashed against all the other boys, a burly security assistant in front of them and one behind. He can see Liam seize Zayn and Harry’s upper arms, as they seem to be the ones taking the brunt of the screaming calls and frantic hands. All at once, the doors ahead of them open and they’re ushered inside, closing again quickly and the noise shuts off. It’s such a jarring shift from the chaos and brightness of the LA sun to being in an aesthetically lit, quiet studio green room. Louis blinks, eyes adjusting to the light change, and Niall whoops, clapping his hands together.

“Now that’s living!”

None of the other boys look similarly enthusiastic, but Louis is slowly growing accustomed to Niall frequently being the most eager and animated of the bunch.

An overworked looking intern with a clipboard comes into the room, speaking in a high and somewhat irritating voice. “Hi, I’m David, if you’ll follow me, I’m gonna take you back to our stylist team. We’re on a tight schedule today so we’ll have to move through everything fast.”

Louis follows curiously as David leads the group out of the room, down the hall, and into a larger, better lit space. There are several of those lit mirrors -- vanities?-- lining the walls, with chairs in front of them, and three women who look like they’ve had enough lip injections to tide over a whole clan of Kardashians waiting armed with hairbrushes and blow dryers.

The boys, sans Liam, each take a chair and a stylist goes to each, jerking their heads around rather roughly as they examine them in the mirror, talking amongst themselves about how best to do the boys up.

“You look peaky, babes,” one of the women says as she pushes Harry’s hair back to get a look at him, glancing over at her coworkers. “Don’t you think he looks peaky, Ruby?”

Ruby looks away from working on Zayn to peer over. “Oh, horrible, tell Sandy to bring some instant tan lotion, not too dark or it won’t look natural, but we need some color here instantly, honey, you look ill.”

Louis wonders if it’s quite customary to talk about celebrities in front of them as if they’re not there, because Harry doesn’t react in the slightest, but Liam chimes in.

“Harry’s been sick, just come back from taking a few days off to rest. He’s getting back in the game, aren’t you Harry?”

The boy nods, making his wavy curls bob, and Liam pats his shoulder.

Ruby looks skeptical. “Whatever it is, tan him up and blend his face a shade or two darker than usual, something to make him show up under the studio lights.”

Harry’s stylist nods, getting to work and looking much more stressed than Louis feels she needs to be about pale skin. Liam’s on his phone, leaving Louis with nothing to do, so he pulls out his camera and takes a few experimental shots, messing with the lighting and saturation to find the best colors, but Harry proves to be a rather uninvolved model. He just sits in the chair, not even bored, he simply seems not present. Louis isn’t even sure he’s aware that his picture is being taken. He’s almost tempted to wave his hand in the boy’s face to see if he’d get a reaction, but quietly decides that’s probably unnecessary. Louis turns his attention to Niall and Zayn instead, because the blonde has been calling out to him this whole time insisting that he’s great for pictures, if Louis will only give him a chance. 

And Louis has to hand it to him, what he lacks in elegance he makes up for in enthusiasm, grinning and generally cheesing it up for the camera until his stylist tells him to stop so she can fix his hair. Louis takes a few shots of Zayn, purely because he’s a picturesque human being without even trying. He only realizes Louis is using him as a focal point once Niall starts desperately trying to photobomb, and at that point Louis is able to capture a supreme photo of Niall grinning like a madman with two thumbs up, halfway leaning on Zayn, whose face is halfway between amusement and exasperation. Either way, it’s a great picture. Louis admires it, sitting down on one of the velvet couches to scroll through his shots. Shooting Niall and Zayn is easy, Niall’s energy is off the charts, and Zayn is fairly agreeable, not to mention extremely photogenic. If Louis was here to photograph them he’s pretty sure he’d be having the time of his life. He glances over at Harry, who’s being rubbed with some sort of tanning creme. He’s like a doll, moving his arm when lifted, tilting his head when his hair is pulled in that direction. A perfect, freshly tanned, soulless little Ken doll. Maybe that’s ideal, maybe he’s been conditioned, groomed carefully into acting like that. The perfect unproblematic childstar, right? 

It’s disgusting. Louis doesn’t see how it’s possible to live when you don’t even look alive.

He excuses himself to go to the bathroom after a couple minutes, and has a right struggle finding them -- apparently famous people don’t pee, because these are the most out of the way bathrooms possible -- and when he returns, the boys have finished being primped and polished. The stylists must have done something while Louis was gone, because all three of them have a vaguely plastic look about them. Flawless skin, white smiles, doe eyes. Harry looks wildly different with his hair swept up like that, his skin about three shades darker than when they started. He’s nothing like the smoking, slouchy boy of this morning.

“Okay people, let’s go, chop chop.”

David’s back with his obnoxiously nasally voice, waving his clipboard dramatically and rounding the group up to usher them down the hall and into a blindingly lit studio space. There’s a young woman sitting in a chair in front of a white backdrop with three stools across from her. David leads them through a tangle of cables and cameras, and Louis distractedly admires the quality of their shooting equipment. They don't have it like this in Doncaster, that's for sure.

The boys file into their seats and Liam pulls Louis to the side slightly.

“We just stand here and watch, out of the way,” he murmurs. “It doesn’t take too long, usually, if they behave.”

“Behave?” Louis questions. 

“Well, they’re teenagers, you can’t hold them to high standards all of the time,” Liam shrugs. 

They’re teenagers. Louis mentally notes that he was right this morning, Harry is as young as the rest of them. Seems odd that he’d be allowed cigarettes as at that age. Maybe there really are no rules for the rich. 

"Okay people," David is once again clapping loudly to command attention, and Louis has to put effort into not wincing and rolling his eyes. "We're going to do this fast and we're going to do this efficient. Whip through those questions, stay on task, let's do this folks. Can we get lights? Lights? Where are my lights?"

The final touches before rolling happen in seconds. Lights go on, smoothing out skin imperfections with a bright glow, the low murmur of the crew falls silent and a strong voice calls out "rolling!"

It happens in a microsecond. If Louis hadn't been looking at him it would be easy to miss completely; Harry's face goes from lifeless to lit up, his eyebrows raising slightly, making him look pleasantly amused, and he cracks a blinding smile, looking into the camera as all three boys wave and smile, calling out greetings to the non-existent audience. He looks nothing short of bubbly and excitable now, and if Louis hadn't been watching him the whole time, he might think someone had body snatched the real Harry and replaced him with an effervescent doll. 

They're actors, Louis thinks. Acting is what they do. There's no reason for him to read into things this much. He should aim to keep his nose clean and do his job, that's all. 

But his mum always told him to go with his gut. And his gut is telling him something is strange here, and he can't put a finger on it. It's all become unsettling since Harry arrived, he's different from the other boys and not in a good way. Zayn is weird and intimidating, sure, but Louis knows there's a person underneath all of that. He's sure of it. Harry, on the other hand, reminds Louis of one of those wind up dolls. You turn the handle and it powers up and does it's thing until suddenly it shuts off and you have a lifeless toy in front of you once more. 

Louis doesn't want to work for a wind-up doll. He wanted so badly for this to be easy. Move to LA, meet some lovely lads, have the time of his life shooting for them, maybe meet a cute guy on the crew and start their unlikely romance. Listen, he'd had this all planned out and Ken Doll Styles was not a part of it in any way. 

Louis looks back at the boy in question, who's jovially answering the interviewer's inquiries about life on set. He doesn't even slightly resemble the messy, brooding figure that he was a couple hours ago. Everyone has a people personality, but such a drastic shift is bizarre to comprehend. 

Niall is chuckling his head off at seemingly nothing, which is very Niall of him, and Zayn is perpetually on the quiet side as usual, but he doesn't look unhappy. More slightly amused and almost above the going ons surrounding him, which is probably true. Zayn always seems effortlessly superior to everyone else in the room. Harry is the leader of the group by nature, you can tell by the way the other two respond to him or turn to him first when asked something. Louis makes a mental note to subtly try to glean information on Harry from the other boys. Niall is probably his best bet, he seems to be sort of a loudmouth sometimes, especially when Liam is around. Louis can make good use of that, he's sure. 

He really shouldn't be so nosy, he promised himself before he came here that he wouldn't get involved in things that have nothing to do with him. 

But well, how was he supposed to know that he'd find a Ken Doll with split personality disorder and lifeless eyes when he got here? The things that have happened since he arrived are simply things he could not have predicted and...that justifies a change of plans.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey kiddos, thanks for all the love on this so far. Reading comments makes my whole entire day, no joke. 
> 
> Once again, I have to thank Em for all her help with this book, I literally never shut about it and she still listens every day. I do not deserve it. Check out her work 'Making New Clichès' @californiasjewel. I've had the honor of assisting with (read: fangirling over) her writing process with that and it's definitely worth the read. 
> 
> The song for this chapter is National Anthem by Lana Del Rey because I like the way the verses fit with the whole "teen idol" fame slap in the face Louis gets with this chapter and all of his shock over how the boys live like that every day
> 
> Hope you're all well and like the chapter, it's slow work but I'm still writing semi consistently :)


	8. Chapter 8

So here's the thing. Harry has been back for nearly four days now, and Louis hasn't made an attempt to take pictures of him even once, except for the first morning at the studio for the interview.

In his defense, they've both been busy. All three of the boys had three consecutive nine hour shooting days for their show, and by the time they wrapped up, the last thing Louis wanted to do was approach the visibly enervated kid and ask for a quick photoshoot. So they'd all go back to the house (Louis can comprehend calling it 'home' yet), Harry and Zayn would get high in the living room, or sometimes by the pool, Liam goes to sit with them sometimes, but never participates. Louis is yet to figure out if he hangs around them to keep an eye on them, or if he just like sitting next to Zayn. Niall good naturedly sticks around Louis and the two of them play video games or sit in the kitchen and snack. He's good company, if not slightly erratic at times. He talks a lot, constantly, but rarely of anything significant; movies he likes, famous people he's met (and whether or not they're as nice as you think they are) his rich boy childhood, the list goes on.

Louis hasn't been handed very many good opportunities to inquire about Harry with him, or anyone else for that matter. The few things he's found out have mainly been obtained from light eavesdropping and general perception:

One, Harry's sixteen, which makes him the youngest of the group, and it's appalling considering the fact that he's usually drinking before breakfast has even finished, and Louis isn't completely up to date on American laws but he knows for a fact that's not legal.

Two,that blonde girl Harry hangs around with is his girlfriend. She's very clingy and vapid, and from what Louis can surmise, most of what their relationship consists of, is her sitting on his lap taking a drag from whatever Harry's smoking, and then eventually teasingly tugging him upstairs, to where they disappear for the rest of the night.

Three, Harry smokes. Anything. Constantly. This aligns fairly well with the other two bits of information, but needed its own recognition just because of how much it consistently throws Louis. He wakes up, Harry's smoking a joint. The boys go to set, makeup artists transform them into perfect little dolls again, shoot for hours, and Harry's perfect. Happy, vivacious, smiles all around, but the second those cameras cut, before they've even made it back to the house, Harry's got something lit again.

The most consistently shocking part is... nobody really seems to care. Most of the time, Zayn is there with him, although getting high seems to make him calmer, whereas it makes Harry unpredictably moody. Liam occasionally seems annoyed by it, but hasn't intervened at all, that Louis has seen. It's like underaged substance abuse isn't anything to bat an eye at in this city. The sad part is that Louis is starting to realize that's not an exaggeration, it's really true. And maybe he’s just a sheltered small town boy, but he thinks that’s fucked up.

\---

It’s a lazy afternoon, they’ve not had much to do today. One quick press meeting where the boys ended up playing one of those ‘one sentence story’ games, that was actually quite fun to watch, and then back home.

Louis is by the pool playing cards with Zayn, who’s wearing sunglasses and a black hoodie because the past couple of days he’s decided to be averse to sunlight and dress exclusively in dark clothes. He isn’t sure where these fixations come from (just in the 10 days that Louis’s been here, Zayn has cycled through wanting to be a gardener, a pianist, go to school for an English Literature degree, and now the gentle vampirism) but he finds them oddly endearing.

“You’re hoarding all the fours, I know it,” Zayn complains, tossing down his hand of cards and picking up the next. The two of them have been locked in endless matches of Stress for the past hour. Louis used to play it with his sisters all the time so not only is he wickedly good at it-- Zayn is yet to win --, but it reminds him pleasantly of home too.

“If I was, that’s my business, mate,” Louis replies smugly, swapping out an eight for a three and completing one of his sets. Zayn snaps up his discarded eight and shuffles his cards around quickly, throwing down a hand of eights next to the rest of his cards.

“Stress!” he announces triumphantly, and Louis gapes.

“You’ve won.”

“I told you I’d beat you!” Zayn looks ridiculously happy at his first victory, breaking into an infectious smile.

Louis shakes his head, disappointed but unable to be upset. The other boy just looks too pleased with himself. Zayn doesn’t crack easy, you have to work a little bit to make him smile, Louis can’t crush him now.

“Fine, fine, shuffle it up, deal again.”

Zayn shakes his head, leaning back in his chair. “No mate, I’m taking my win and leaving it at that. Ending on a high note.”

“Cowardice has gotten the best of you, I see?”

“You wish.”

The two of them stack the cards back up and set them aside. Louis settles into the warm sun, letting it hit his skin. Maybe he’ll get a tan for the first time in his life. Come home to Doncaster looking like a real Los Angeles boy. His sisters, especially Lottie, would be terribly jealous.

“Do you smoke, Louis?”

Louis lifts his head to look at Zayn, who’s lighting up a joint, with a questioning look. Louis sits up. He distantly acknowledges that he should know better than to get high with a minor, but they're both too young to smoke in the states so that puts them in an equal status...right? He reaches out and takes the offered blunt, taking a drag and exhaling the smoke slowly, leaning back into his chair.

Zayn looks like a timeless painting with the sun setting around them, breathing smoke gently into the hazy air. It always takes awhile for Louis to feel the effect of whatever he's taking. Fifteen, maybe twenty minutes, and then he starts to get giggly and lose what little verbal filter he has.

"Do you know where Harry is?" Zayn speaks for the first time after a while of them passing the blunt back and forth, and his question makes Louis wrinkle his brow. Why the hell would he know where Harry is?

"Not a clue, why?" The other boys shrugs, looking almost bored. "Haven't seen him since this morning."

"Probably off fucking sulking somewhere or banging his girlfriend," the derisive comment slips out before Louis can think it through. Yeah, he’s definitely starting to feel it now. "Am I your replacement smoking buddy, then? Cause you two seem pretty exclusive."

"I just smoke with Harry cause he's good conversation when he's on something."

"Am I that way too?"

Zayn looks at him, almost curiously amused. "You're good sober too, Lou."

Lou. No one's called him that since he left Doncaster over a week ago. It tugs on his heartstrings a little bit. "Thanks mate, I try."

Another stretch of quiet unfurls between them, but Louis finds himself rather grateful for the quiet. It’s surprisingly hard to come by here. He has this notion, before he left home, that this job would be more or less cushy and peaceful. You know, fly to one of the richest areas in America and kick around with his camera, trailing after a cute little Disney star and snapping pictures, but instead he got a mini alcoholic, his pothead friend and Niall, who’s admittedly a lovely guy, but never shuts up. Liam’s perfectly alright, be he always seems to be (understandably) stressed over something or other.

“Do you photograph Harry much?” Zayn speaks again, brushing his silky hair out of his eyes.

Louis looks up at him, shifting slightly. “Um, not much, yet.” 

The boy turns his head, dark eyes seeming to file through Louis’s thoughts, and then he smirks. “You’ve not taken any pictures of him at all, have you?”

Louis rolls his eyes, making a grab for the joint resting in Zayn’s nimble fingers. “If you already know the answer, then why do you ask?”

“Wanted to see how you’d reply.”

“Christ, why can’t you ever just be normal?” Louis shakes his head, exasperated. Half the time, he thinks Zayn could be a friend, but the other half he has the lingering impression that Zayn’s simply toying with him for amusement. Maybe Louis simply hasn’t made it past that thick emotional defense line yet.

“What’s the fun in normal?” Zayn’s smirk widens. “All I do is strive to stay far from normal.”

“Clearly,” Louis mutters, wondering if it’s too biting as a reply, but Zayn simply laughs.

“I like you, Louis. You’re not a flake like everyone else.”

“Everyone else?” Louis prompts curiously, sensing more beyond Zayn’s words.

The younger boy uncrosses his legs and lays back on the chair he’s perched on, exhaling smoke lazily. “Everyone else who comes around us,” he gestures vaguely as if that’s supposed to explain his statement. “Housekeepers, stylists, interviewers, always so so endlessly delicate, like we’re made of glass. They never say anything to us, not really. Stick to the script, don’t do anything that might offend us, right? It’s fucking bullshit, gets so tiring.”

Louis doesn’t think he’s heard Zayn speak so bitterly before. Sure, he has enough to say on the regular, complains and fucks around like the others, but the way he stares darkly into the distance makes Louis feel like there’s genuine anguish behind his words, probably more than he voices.

“I want to feel like a person, not a trophy being passed around, you know?” Zayn looks over at him, and Louis nods, although he can’t say he entirely relates.

“So that’s why I smoke. Grab Harry and pretend we’re real people with friends and lives, but then the haze clears and…” Zayn sighs deeply. “We’re not. We’re people’s paychecks, me, Harry and Niall.” Zayn’s brow is furrowed, and he looks deep in thought.

Louis doesn’t know what to say. _I’m sorry_ doesn’t exactly cut it, but he’s not about to get up and cuddle this kid, so he stays quiet.

“But anyways,” Zayn brightens, as if he didn’t just murmur his repressed inner thoughts resentfully to Louis. “You’re here and you’re alright, so cheers to that, yeah?”

“Course, cheers, yeah. Not going anywhere anytime soon,” Louis replies, hoping he’ll come off as somewhat reassuring, but he’s pretty sure it’s just awkward.

“Unless Harry fires you for not doing your fucking job, yeah?” Zayn laughs, and the tension is broken.

“Like he cares,” Louis takes a drag from the joint and passes it to Zayn. “Doesn’t like me at all, doubt he wants me in his face with a camera.”

“He’s shy,” Zayn says wisely, and Louis thinks all the boys keep saying that about each other, but so far none of them really are, they’re just fucking weird people.

“Maybe so,” Louis relents. He’s not about to begin a dispute with an evidently emotionally fragile teenager.

"You should try with him, I know he's kind of a prick, but he's not really, you know?" Right. That just makes perfect sense. It's not the first time one of the boys has said that about Harry, but Louis is beginning to wonder if he'll ever understand it for himself. So far it's not looking great.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome back, people 
> 
> Sorry this update took so freaking long, I've got like the next 4 chapters written I just can't be bothered to edit them and post 99% of the time, and that's on me ladies and gents. 
> 
> As usual, a billion thanks to Em for going off about this fic with me on the daily. Couldn't do it without ya 
> 
> The song for this chapter is Fake Plastic Trees by Radiohead. I don't think I've used that for this book yet but maybe I have, honestly I have no idea, I'm losing it this week. 
> 
> Annnnyways, hope you enjoy this chapter even though it's short, but at least you get a little more detail on Harry and some insight from Zayn on their life. If you can, leaving comments is such a highlight for every creator, it means so much ♥️


	9. Chapter 9

It's been twelve days. That's edging up on two weeks. Louis needs to bite the fucking bullet and go ask Harry to duck into the backyard or something just so he can take a couple pictures and say he did. Anything to show that he's not a complete waste of space here. They've barely begun filming the actual documentary yet so Louis doesn't feel  _ that _ bad, but all the same he wants to be able to have something he can provide as confirmation that he's actually doing the shit he's being paid for. 

It's Friday evening. There had been a crew here at the house today toting after Harry, mostly filming talking segments with him perched in front of various picturesque backgrounds. The other boys were filmed a bit too, probably having been bribed to gush about how quirky and special Harry is. Much to Louis's relief, not one person asked him anything, or asked anything of him, so he was free to linger around and observe from a distance. 

It's a bit underwhelming, really. Just a couple guys with cameras, one big and one small, a makeup artist to make sure the Ken Doll aesthetic never slips, and two people with a boom mic and light reflecting panel, the whole group shifting around as necessary to switch locations. They seem to be particularly fond of filming by the pool. Louis catches one of the crew members saying something about how it's a "Classic California backdrop"

They wrapped filming around midday, having declared it had gotten too hot. Maybe Harry's fake tan had started melting or something, who knows. Either way, they packed up and left early. Louis is more or less glad though. It's one thing to be on a set, but having a crew in the actual place where he lives is just edging on bothersome. It feels invasive. He wonders if that's what the other boys feel like too.  _ More _ so, since this is their actual home, Louis is just staying here. 

They're all gone now, though and Louis is perched at the bottom of the sweeping staircase in the foyer, watching the gardener through the open front doors. There's no reason to watch him beside the fact that it's just strangely satisfying to watch someone do the plainest jobs with such care. He's an older man, weathered from years in the sun, and he's always wearing the same wide brimmed straw hat while he totes his small wheelbarrow around the yard, scooping fresh mulch onto the plants, pruning roses and repotting flowers. And you know what, he looks  _ happy  _ every day just to be there doing his work and Louis appreciates that. The loyalty to one passion, the dedication to his job, all are admirable qualities. 

There's a crunch of gravel on the long driveway, and an expensive looking car pulls in -- Louis doesn't know silly things like car names, he has better things to do -- for a brief moment he wonders if the car belongs at the house, or if a guest is here, but his curiosities are quickly vanquished when Liam slides out of the driver's seat and Harry emerges from the shotgun side. He's wearing his usual off camera attire of a mostly unbuttoned silky shirt and black jeans, looking as carelessly tousled as he always does.

Louis wonders how guys do that, he's never been able to figure it out. He either looks smartly dressed or he looks like an unshowered crackhead and there's no balance whatsoever. 

Whatever, at least Louis knows what a haircut is, something Harry direly lacks. It doesn't  _ matter _ if he pulls it off, it's getting ridiculous. He's holding his bangs off his face with sunglasses at the moment,  _ surely _ that's a sign it's time to let a couple inches go. 

At the edge of the driveway Harry stops to converse with the gardener, who talks animatedly with many hand gestures. Louis is too far to hear what they're saying, but the gardener looks pleased. Good. Louis has a soft spot for him. 

Liam is nowhere to be found as Harry wraps up his conversation, heading up the front walk towards the house. Louis stands up, brushing imaginary dust off his jeans. Now is as good as any time to have a word with Harry, if Louis has got any luck at all, maybe the other boy is in a good mood. 

"Hey, mate, you have a minute?" Louis waves his hand, flagging Harry down. He stops in his tracks, glancing over his shoulder. 

"Louis Tomlinson."

His tone is vaguely annoyed, like Louis is a bill he's just remembered he has to pay, which isn't a great start, but at least he stopped when Louis called him. 

"Hi, yeah, uhm, I just wanted to, erm, check in," Louis cringes inwardly. Check in? Why can't he talk? He hates the feeling of judgement rolling off of Harry like bitter air. It makes him feel small and stupid. "Not check in like, check in, but like, touch base? I dunno, listen, I'm supposed to be taking pictures of you, and I haven't, that's all."

Harry's eyebrows go up microscopically, giving the impression that he's waiting for Louis to say something more. 

"If you have a moment, I'd be good - for both of us- if I could just grab my camera and have a quick shoot, yeah?"

Louis hopes he doesn't sound desperate. Because he's not, he's only frustrated more than anything. Harry's no help, he's a spoiled little boy and Louis is going to have to drag him through this and orchestrate everything himself. 

"A quick shoot?" Harry repeats and Louis looks up, hopeful. Maybe Harry will just shut up and make this easy. The younger boy shakes his head, making his curls sway. 

"I'm going to say this just once, Louis Tomlinson, because I know you've signed contracts and there's no need for niceties any longer. This wasn't my idea, so don't think for a second it was. It's a charity project. Find some little, unknown photographer and bring them here for the glitz and the glamor. They don't want the pictures as much as they want the good press for giving a platform to a nobody. It's all part of the bigger picture," Harry pulls his sunglasses off his head and tucks them in his breast pocket. 

"I never wanted you here, especially since you've proven yourself fairly useless, I really don't see the point, but Liam likes you and he calls the shots. That being said, I don't give a  _ fuck _ about what you're here for. I want you to wrap it up and get out of my house as soon as possible, so unless my manager comes down here personally and forces me to sit through some shoot of yours, don't expect me to be there.

Louis opens his mouth and shuts it again. On what grounds does this absolute  _ cunt _ think he can get away with speaking to Louis like that? He flushes with anger, having to remind himself that this isn't a good person to lose his shit on.

"Have it your way," Louis retorts cooly, though it's a fight to keep his temper out of his voice. "It's not as if I felt like babysitting anyways. I doubt I'd need your manager to step in when I could just phone your mummy instead."

Something sharp and cold flashes through Harry's eyes, like a crack in ice. "I'd advise you not to go there," he says, dangerously soft. 

"Please," Louis is feeling reckless, heated. He knows he can't continue this conversation for much longer before he says something that will seriously screw him. "You're a child."

Any previous emotion in Harry's face dissipates, becoming lifeless once more. He blinks slowly. "I'm one of the richest children on the planet. If you ever speak to me that way again, I'll have you fired and blacklisted from every agency in Hollywood, do you understand?"

An unsettling chill raises the hairs on the back of Louis's neck. In that second, he had the bizarre feeling that he wasn't speaking to a temperamental kid, but an extremely powerful, extremely dangerous sociopath. 

"Right then," Louis murmurs, trying to summon back his bravado. "I'll be in my room then, doing fuck all because apparently that's how you'd like it."

"Good," Harry says softly. "You understand," he slides his sunglasses out of his pocket, putting them on and turning on his heel, walking straight out of the door he came through not even five minutes prior. 

Louis is so fucked. He had such high hopes for the way things would go while he was here, and that got crushed pretty quickly by Harry's presence, but now Louis longs for yesterday when the biggest problem about Harry was the fact that he was so clearly self absorbed and spoiled. Now Louis is pretty sure he's mentally unstable  _ and _ he's managed to get on the wrong side of that.

Louis's boss is a lunatic, alcoholic 16 year old. Maybe if he says it a couple times it'll somehow make sense how  _ this _ is what his life looks like now.

He needs to ask Liam for copies of those contracts he signed to see how long he has to stay here before he can leave without being sued. He might also need a lawyer.

\---

Louis is glad his bedroom is half the size of his home in Doncaster because he's realizing he spends most of his time here. Sometimes it's simply easier to go upstairs and write postcards to his sisters than to try and socialize with the boys when Harry's around. 

Zayn came up earlier and asked Louis if he wanted to smoke on the balcony with him and Harry, which was actually sort of sweet in a weird way, because Louis does feel genuine effort on Zayn's part to include him. Since they got high by the pool together a few days ago, Zayn's been less odd and intimidating.It makes Louis wonder if maybe he's starting to break past the protective layers and find the human underneath.

However, nothing sounded worse to Louis than bro-ing out with Harry after what happened earlier, so he declined, saying he wanted to video chat his family for a while. And he did, got caught up with the lot of them, answered a million prying questions and lied about how great and adorable Harry Styles is because he can't bear to destroy Fizzy's fantasy. 

But that was over an hour ago, and since he's been laying on his bed flipping through movies on demand, feeling too restless to settle on anything. He hates that feeling. Wanting to focus his hyperactivity on something but being unable to quiet his mind enough to focus on anything at all. He clicks the TV off in defeat and rolls onto his back, rubbing his face aggressively enough that he almost missed the gentle knock on his door. Louis sits up, combing his hair out of his eyes with his fingers quickly. 

"Come in."

The door cracks and Liam peers in, greeting Louis with a smile. "Hey Louis, mate. You got anything going on?"

"Not a thing," Louis shrugs. "Been sitting on this bed for an hour, tell me you have something to distract me, I'm desperate, mate."

Liam steps in further and shuts the door behind him. "I just wanted to have a quick word, actually, about Harry?" His voice frames it like a question, but Louis isn't sure what he's supposed to answer. 

"Er, what about him?"

"Nothing, hardly anything at all! just, I heard you two had a bit of a disagreement earlier."

Jesus Christ. Either Liam monitors the entire house or Harry reports back to him daily with the events of the past 24 hours. Either one is a little messed up. 

Liam's smile looks almost pained. "I want to apologise if he said anything, erm, upsetting, he's had a rough week, but just know that we're  _ all _ glad to have you here working with us, and the team wouldn't have picked you if they weren't  _ most _ assured you were the best choice-"

"Liam," Louis interrupts. "I don't mean to cross a professional line here, whatever that may be, but... just save it for someone else, okay? I'm way too good at reading through bullshit for this, stop cleaning up all of Harry's messes for him."

Liam's smile fades, giving him such a disappointed look that Louis almost wants to apologise for not mincing his words better. "Harry's not a bad kid, you know? I end up making apologies for him a lot, but only because I know he doesn't  _ really  _ have bad intentions. He's too young to know better, you know?"

Louis shakes his head.

"You're a nice lad, Liam, really, and I don't want any hard feelings here, but you can stop, you don't have to do that with me. I see all the stuff that happens, I get that they're not little, precocious gems like everyone is supposed to believe they are, and I'm not a dick, I won't  _ say _ anything about it, you can trust me with that, but I need you to let me make my own opinions without you interfering to protect their images."

For a worrying second Louis fears he's gone too far. Upsetting Liam would probably be the final push to get thrown on a flight back home before morning, he should have thought this through better, but instead of growing angry, the other boy's shoulders droop a little. 

"I know, I'm sorry, it's hard to step back because I like everything to be orderly and on track all of the time, it's all habit."

Louis smiles a bit. He should have known Liam would be the most grounded person here, and therefore the best to have a real conversation with. "I get it, it's your job, but...just be a mate, yeah?" He tilts his head. "Don't you ever want to stop being the resident Person In Charge and just be a nineteen year old instead?"

Liam shrugs. "Honestly? All the time. But all three of those boys need someone to step up, and like you said, it's my job to be there."

"Mad respect, Liam. Don't go getting bossy on me though," Louis quirks his lips to show that he's only being light-hearted. 

"I'll cut it, mate, pinky swear," Liam straightens up, ambling back towards the door. "it's almost time for dinner, if you're hungry."

Louis nods, and Liam reaches out, pausing as he grips the doorknob. "oh, and Louis?"

"Yeah?"

"While you're...formulating your opinions, just include the fact that I don't only protect the boys cause it's my job, I do it cause they're my friends too."

His voice is so soft and honest, that this time Louis really does believe him. "I will," he answers, equally quiet. 

The door opens, and Liam slips away without another word. 

-

Dinner that evening is quiet. Not quite tense, but a hair away from being so. Louis honestly wasn't going to eat, but after his earlier conversation with Liam he didn't want him to feel like there was anything to clear in the air between them, so he joined them as usual. They're dining in the garden today, because Zayn insisted, and from what Louis has seen, Liam usually goes along sweetly with what he says. 

Zayn's argument was that  _ the roses are in full bloom _ . He's back on his garden bullshit again, Louis supposes. Though he can't be mad because the garden  _ is _ beautiful, and less stuffy than if they were inside. And it's easier to avoid looking at Harry, as he's chosen not to sit at the table with them, but on the ground at Niall's feet. The blond finished eating a while ago and pushed his chair out so Harry could join him. He's combing his fingers through the younger boy's dark hair, twirling it up into little buns and loops and whatnot only to absent-mindedly undo it within seconds and begin something else. Harry looks perfectly unbothered, giving Louis the feeling that this is a fairly normal occurrence. 

He still can't get a hand on the boys intertwining relationships. Some moments they're perfectly laddy, shoving each other around and making sarcastic remarks, other times Louis gets the impression that they've definitely had sex before. 

Maybe all four of them are secretly boning and Louis is simply the newest victim of their weird Hollywood sex cult. He rules nothing out at this point. 

“Have you ever considered a haircut?” Niall half grumbles, picking at an unbrushed knot of hair. “This is getting out of hand.”

“Don’t touch it then,” Harry says boredly, leaning back onto Niall’s knees.

“Well, I don’t see you or anyone else combing your hair on your days off, it’s a bloody mess by the time we get on set, isn’t this the sort of thing Peyton should be doing? All cute and lovey, yeah?”

Louis hasn’t the foggiest clue who Peyton is, and he’s not going to interrupt to ask.

“Peyton thinks I should cut it,” Harry says, staring ahead to where the sun is beginning to sink below the city skyline.

“So do I, and you still won’t. Your mates, the studio execs, your girlfriend-”

Oh. That’s Peyton. The blonde thing Harry toys with. Her personality is flatter and less flavorful than an unsalted cracker so Louis can’t blame himself for forgetting her existence. 

“I’m not cutting it precisely because the execs want me to. They can’t have everything,” Harry’s voice is soft, yet challengingly defiant. At this, Liam looks up.

“Are you being a pain again, Harry?”

“There’s nothing to be a pain about, Liam, darling.” Harry reaches up and grabs his cup from the edge of the table that stands higher than his seat on the ground, toasting it sarcastically to Liam. “Niall won’t mind his business.”

“Everyone’s business is everyone else’s in this house,” Niall mutters. “Louis!”

Louis starts at his name being called. He wasn’t expecting to be dragged into conversation. He looks up at the blond boy in acknowledgement. 

“Harry could do with a haircut, yeah? You’re perfectly unbiased, lay the facts on us, mate.”

“I, uh,” Louis trips over his words. He’d really like to decline comment at this time, he doesn’t want to look at Harry, he  _ definitely _ doesn’t want to look at Harry and be candid on how he feels about Harry’s appearance. 

Because that would mean admitting that as annoyingly overgrown as his hair is, the loose curls suit him far too well to cut, and Louis will most definitely not be saying that. It’s not as if that kid needs any more people telling him how special and pretty he is. If his head gets any larger it’ll probably explode. 

“It’s, it’s fine,” he says weakly, realizing he still hasn’t spoken. “Could care less, really.”

“Ugh,” Niall exclaims in disgust. “Lou, I desperately needed you to be Team Niall, nobody  _ ever _ sides with me!”

“You’re so sensitive,” Harry shakes his head, setting his cup back on the table. 

“I am not, it’s so true!” Niall argues, evidently fed up with the injustices towards him. “Whenever we argue, Harry, you have your own agenda and Liam usually chimes in with some placating alternative and Zayn  _ always _ agrees with him-”

“I do not!” Zayn protests.

“Do too! You never do anything to upset Liam.”

“I upset Liam all the time!” Zayn exclaims, and Liam pulls a face that Louis actually has to try not to laugh at. Something about heatedly announcing that you upset your superior all the time, in front of said superior, has unmatched comedic value in Louis’s head.

“Don’t mind Niall, Z, he’s just being whiny, aren’t you Niall?” There’s something slightly evil about Harry’s smirk, and Louis gets the feeling he knows exactly how chaotic and antagonistic he’s being. “Baby Niall.”

Niall smacks the boys head. “I’m not the baby, you’re the baby. Baby Harry, needs a paci.” The younger boy reaches up and smacks at Niall’s chest where he can reach, but it doesn’t deter him.

“Little baby Harry, he wants someone to play with his hair and tuck him into bed-” he’s cut off suddenly with a shout when Harry stands up and topples over Niall’s chair, knocking them both to the ground where they roll around, hitting each other. 

Louis is fleetingly alarmed for Niall’s safety before realizing by the way they’re throwing blows, neither of them means genuine harm. At the head of the table, Liam is pinching the bridge of his nose, looking exasperated. 

“Zayn! Zayn! Get him off me,  _ get him off _ -” Niall's protesting shouts ring through the air.

“Zayn’s with me, you’re being a little shit,” Harry says, grabbing Niall’s waist and flipping them over. He's clearly trying to get the upper hand, but Niall is holding his own quite well. “A hand, if you would, Z?”

Zayn kicks his chair back and comes around the table, making Liam sit up straight. “Zayn, don’t even think- oh my god,” the older boy throws his hands up, looking like he’d rather melt into nothing than be here as Zayn throws himself onto the other two, making Niall shout in protest.

“Harry started it, he started it! This is so unfair, stop hitting, stop hitting, I’ll  _ bite you, Zayn Malik-” _

Liam shakes his head, meeting Louis’s eyes. “Unbelievable, no?”

Louis nods, but he’s unable to hide his amused grin. This is the first time in two weeks that he’s seen them all behave like actual teenagers. Defiant and aggressive and completely obnoxious. It’s mildly reassuring just to know that they can. Liam pushes back his chair and stands up, going to them and pulling Zayn back by his shirt, holding around his waist to keep him from returning to the brawl. Liam’s entirely too gentle, in Louis’s opinion. He’s been in enough tussles to know that you have to hop in and jerk people around if you want anyone to listen to you, but to Louis’s surprise, Zayn responds to the touch and leans back against Liam, panting instead of rejoining. 

“Get up, Harry, get off him, stop that.”

Reluctantly, Harry rolls away from Niall, who groans softly and scrambles over to Liam, half hiding behind him and hugging his arm. “You lot are terrible, ganging up on me like that, Liam’s the only one here who loves me, aren’t you, Li?” 

“Yeah, I love you Niall, loads.”

Louis almost laughs at the way Liam looks like an exhausted single mother in that moment. 

“And Louis!” Niall exclaims. “You could have helped instead of watching on as I get beat on!”

“I’m just the photographer,” Louis laughs. “Can’t go getting arrested for fighting minors now, can I?”

“Bullshit,” Niall shakes his head, but he doesn’t seem mad. “You’re all villains in my book.”

Liam prys Niall off of him, looking harassed. “I don’t think this job pays enough,” he whispers, rubbing his temples.

“The real payment is our love and adoration,” Niall grins, making Liam shake his head fervently. 

“I’d just like a better benefits package.”

“Shh,” Zayn combs his fingertips through Liam’s hair lovingly, slinging an arm over his shoulder. “You wouldn’t leave us for the world.”

“Nobody better push it though. You all need to go inside, tonight has been just about enough, I’ll call Miranda to come clear the dinner dishes...Louis, you coming?”

Louis hops up, following the boys inside. He’s surprised at his own happiness in the moment, realizing he still has a grin on his face. He supposes tonight, of all nights, he hadn’t expected to sit and have a laugh with all of them. It’s not so bad sometimes really, being here. If Harry was like this all of the time, Louis reckons he’d be having the time of his life.

He’s homesick still, of course, and he misses his family terribly, but the air is warm here and the boys are still laughing about something or other on the path ahead of him and Louis can’t help but feel like maybe, when he leaves eventually, he’ll miss this place just a little bit. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey hey hey, look who's back with an update, finally. At least this chapter is a little longer than the last 🤪
> 
> I feel like this is the chapter when shit starts to get real, so a round of applause for reaching that point, and for everyone who's still reading right now
> 
> Drink lots of water, cause I definitely haven't xoxo


	10. Chapter 10

When Louis wakes up the following morning, it’s in a state of mild distress. He was having perfectly normal dreams, as far as he can remember, but he finds himself suddenly bold upright in bed, heart pounding. 

Door pounding. That noise isn’t coming from him, it’s coming from the hall.

“Who-who is it?” he chokes out, forgetting to clear his throat first.

“Oi, it’s Niall, get up, we need you downstairs,” Niall’s voice is obnoxiously loud and grating to be accosted with first thing in the morning. 

“Need me for what?” Louis tries to keep the whining edge out of his voice. He would really like to lean back into his warm pillows and return to sleep.

“Hair, makeup, good times, c’mon.”

“ _ Hair and makeup _ ?” Louis splutters, utterly bewildered. “What the hell for?”

There’s an awkward pause, and Louis can almost hear Niall breathing on the other side of the door. “Liam didn’t tell you?”

“Liam didn’t tell me shit,” Louis replies, wide awake now. Tell him  _ what? _

More silence, and then - “LIAM, you are, haven’t you spoken with Louis-?” Niall’s voice fades down the hall and he can be heard jogging down the stairs loudly. Louis rubs his face. Never a calm day here anymore, is there? He rolls out of bed, spending as little time possible getting dressed and fixing his hair so he can head downstairs and find out what kind of mess he’s being pulled into.

The first thing he notices upon heading for the big staircase, is the foyer, stacked with boxes and bags that look suspiciously like presents. The door leading into the dining room is propped open. When Louis walks in, he sees that space has been converted into an impromptu dressing room, dining table spread out with makeup palettes and tubes of primer or conditioner or whatever fancy things rich people spackle on to make their skin perfect. Louis hasn’t worn makeup a day in his life, he wouldn’t know. The three younger boys are perched haphazardly in chairs, with two stylists running between them rushedly. Liam is nowhere to be seen.

“Hello,” Zayn says pleasantly, tapping the chair beside him with his foot in a gesture for Louis to go sit. “Come.”

Louis drags his feet in doing so, not wanting to be the first one to address why he’s wanted here for hair and makeup, but not wanting to stay in the dark. “Where’s Liam?” he asks finally. 

“Outside, making sure everything gets set up correctly,” Niall replies, chucking a biscuit into Louis’s lap. “Breakfast?”

“Not hungry. Is anyone going to tell me why I’m to get my hair and makeup done, or was that just Niall trying to get me out of bed?”

“What a disgraceful accusation,” the blond murmurs, though his unbothered tone doesn’t match his words.

Zayn scrunches his nose in discomfort as one of the stylists tugs at his hair, evidently trying to comb it up into that gravity defying wave he always sports on screen. “No, Niall was actually telling the truth for once, Liam was supposed to talk to you last night, but I guess he forgot-”

“-because you lot were beating me up!” Niall interrupts indignantly.

“Baby Niall,” Zayn hushes him smoothly, making the younger boy kick him. “Anyways, Liam was going to talk to you, but he’s all caught up in set up now, so he asked me to tell you that we’re shooting here today, and if you would please be in some of the shots with us while you take pictures it will make everything look really pleasant, like one big happy family.”

“Two weeks is awfully fast to be family,” Harry says in a low voice, probably only made lower by the early hour and the cigarette in between his fingers. Under normal circumstances Louis would actually be inclined to agree with him, but he knows Harry’s just saying it to remind Louis that he doesn’t belong here.

Louis presses his lips together tightly, refusing to deign Harry with a response. “What are you shooting then?"

“My birthday party!” Niall throws his head back and claps like an over excitable toddler. “Because they think it’ll be lovely and fun to have a pool party. With balloons, even though they get in the way of everything. I wanted them. And it’s my birthday so I get to call the shots.”

Louis blinks. “Happy birthday, I had no idea. You’re eighteen now?”

“Seventeen,” Niall corrects, popping another cookie in his mouth.

“You were seventeen when I got here,” Louis frowns, and Niall shakes his head.

“Once it gets to be your birth month you’re allowed to skip ahead and start calling yourself your new age, everyone knows that.”

“So you lied,” Louis smirks. 

“Or you’re dumb,” Niall fires back, pelting Louis with crumbs. Louis doesn’t do anything to stop it. It’s Niall’s birthday, after all. What he wants, goes. Besides, he likes the banter.

“So, I’m supposed to get my hair made pretty and pretend we’re all a bunch of laddy lads, best mates and all?”

Zayn shrugs. “Pretty much, but Liam could probably give you better instructions. I’m the message delivery boy, not the boss.”

\--

The sun is beating too hot on Louis’s back and he’s starting to get scratchy and uncomfortable in his polo. What was supposed to be ‘quick hair makeup’ turned into ‘trimming and restyling his hair against his will and making him change into clothes from a wardrobe selection the stylists brought’. Not his best experience to date. Louis is well aware he looks as fake and plastic as the other boys always do on camera and he very much hates it. Liam’s pleased, at least. He’s thanked Louis profusely at least three times for “making one thing in his day go smoothly”

He's crouched in an uncomfortable position on the pavement by the pool with his camera, trying to angle everything nicely so he can get all the boys and their excessive amounts of red balloons - Niall wasn't kidding about those -- and the bright blue contrast of the pool all in the same frame. They've paused shooting video footage in favor of letting Louis have free reign for a second to get his pick of shots from the boys. Liam's behind him nagging them all to smile, or stop hitting each other with balloons, every now and then one of the stylists will materialize and fix their hair only to disappear again till she's needed. Basically everything is staged down to the smallest detail. 

It's fine though, because as far as photoshoots go, this is some of Louis's best work. The Los Angeles sun is that perfect level of bright to make everything look glossy and cheerful, and the way the boys clothes all tie in with the colors of the balloons is making every shot prime aesthetic pleasure. This shit should be a whole magazine spread. Plus Louis kind of likes the power he has right now, bossing around everybody on how to move, and when, while the film crew and Liam behind him watch on. He feels a little like he belongs. He can make this work, people take him seriously now. 

Liam glances at his watch, tapping Louis's shoulder. "If you want to wrap up pretty soon, we've got way too much to do still, and we only have these guys for today. Plus Niall wants to wrap shooting early so he can have the rest of the day for what he wants...  _ doubtful  _ now though."

"Yeah sure, 'course," Louis straightens up. "Erm, good work lads. We're done here, go on and, um, bash each other with balloons while this lot film you or whatever."

"I'll bash you, Lou, you're gonna be in front of the camera with the rest of us poor suckers, now."

"How very exciting," Louis says dryly, stepping to the side where the stylist seizes him and gives him a good hosing down with hairspray. 

"Okay everyone, spread out, if we can get the other boys back on set…" the director gestures to where the other guests - six or seven boys their age - are sitting at fold up tables, looking slightly bored. Louis wonders how weird it must be to be invited to your friend's party and have to sit and watch for 40 minutes while said friend has an exclusive photoshoot. 

The set comes to life, various camera men positioning themselves in prime spots to shoot the proceedings. Music cranks up and Niall seizes Louis' arm, yanking back back and they stumble, almost falling in the pool. 

"If you get us a dunking, I'll slap you, don't give a fuck if it's your birthday."

"Shh, language. It's a PG documentary," Niall chides, grinning."

"Bullshit," Louis whispers. "I'm not wearing a mic, not one camera is picking me up right now."

"Management hears everything, it's your ass on the line not mine." 

Louis walks away with a snicker, finding a snack table to lean on. It's still in the frame, but not very obviously so. He could just chill out on the sidelines and eat if he wanted to. There are no rules in their godforsaken city. One of the other guests, a nice enough looking blond a bit older than Louis, maybe, sidles up, helping himself to lemonade. Louis is fully prepared to ignore him, before remembering they're in the background of a shot and should probably look cheerful and civil. 

"So, er, how long have you known Niall?" He inquires, in an effort to start with common ground and work from there. 

The guy looks up at him, his face slightly puzzled. "Uh, just met him this morning, barely. Alright bloke, yeah?"

Just met him this morning? What on Earth does that mean? Who comes to the birthday party of someone they just met. "This morning?" Louis repeats, trying to sound casual, but press for more information. 

"Yeah, I mean, I thought there'd be some sort of pre meetup or something, but apparently there wasn't time so we just got thrown into the mix. But hey, I'm new to the show business, learning as I go, right?" The guy salutes with his lemonade, seeming in good spirits. 

' _ I'm new to the show business' _ . There's no way. That's way too much of an elaborate set up, no way-

"Excuse me," Louis gives him a smile, ducking away before he can be questioned and sliding out of view of any camera. Liam is leaning against a tall palm tree, sunglasses on, watching the proceedings. "Liam!" He calls out, keeping his voice low as he reaches the other boy. "The boys here, all of the guests... they're not extras, are they? I mean, they're really Niall's friends, right?"

Liam laughs almost nervously, taking off his sunglasses to look at Louis. "I thought you knew?"

"Knew what?"

"It's fake. The party."

He says it like it's the most normal thing in the world to bring in a whole party set up crew, a thousand balloons, and a pinata or two only for it all to be staged in the end. 

"The  _ whole _ thing?" Louis hisses. "Why the fuck didn't anyone tell me, and what's the  _ point _ ?"

"It looks good," Liam says simply. "Fun, innocent. Pretty in a picture, a cute to behold all the boys having fun."

"Why not just have an actual party for Niall and invite actual friends and film that?" Louis demands. 

"Oh we are having an actual party. Later. But...it's definitely not getting filmed, I can tell you that." There's a beat of silence in which Liam seems to realize he's said something slightly ominous. "We're going clubbing," he clarifies. "There's this expensive new place, bloody hard to get into, I spent two months trying to make sure we could go, it's all he wants. But um, you can understand why that wouldn't make the cut for a cozy documentary on a teen idol."

"Niall's bloody seventeen and he wants to go clubbing? And you're  _ letting _ him?"

Liam shrugs. "Once you get to be in their position age is hardly a thing. It's not my first choice but I honestly didn't have a say, Louis. You don't have to go, but I'm sure Niall will want you to. It's quite fun, not as bad as you're thinking. Just dancing and drinks, mate."

Louis doesn't know why he's so bothered by this. It's not such a big deal, really. But the massive contrast between the laughing boys on camera several yards away, spraying each other with silly string, and the image of them getting sloshed in a club somewhere makes his head spin. 

"Yeah, 'course I'll go. For Niall, yeah?"

"For Nialler, yeah."

Louis gets the sinking feeling he'll regret this one way or another. 

\---

Louis has never felt so filthy rich and famous in his life. This nightclub feels like another plane of existence. He’s pretty sure that’s Bella Thorne getting absolutely shitfaced across the room over there, which is fine because there aren’t any cameras allowed, and every single person in this room has some higher level of fame or importance anyways. No lowly pap would ever dare attempt entrance into this opulent fortress. 

Getting in was a full experience in and of itself. This place is at the top of a fucking skyscraper for one thing, which is bizarre enough. All five of them had to be ushered into an elevator by bodyguards, faces obscured by hoods and dark sunglasses, but not one ID got requested once their group reached the entrance, barred by burly security men. Liam simply handed one a piece of paper, which he scanned briefly before admitting all of them. 

It has to be well past 1am now, but Louis had to relinquish his phone at the door so he can’t be sure. He was told when they first arrived that he could have anything, and as much of it as he wanted. Louis has no idea who is funding this night out, but he’ll be damned if he doesn’t make good use of it. If he’s being honest though, he’s not  _ terribly _ pissed right now. When drinking for fun, he usually prefers stuff that’s more fruit, less hard liquor. Fuck anyone who says it’s ‘girly’, it tastes amazing. 

Louis is sitting at a booth a bit aways from the dance floor and general crowds, swirling the straw in his half finished strawberry daiquiri. It’s hardly quieter over here, but he needed a minute to sit after an hour or so of hopping up and down dancing to whatever the DJ at the back is putting out. 

He’s pretty sure this booth was reserved for their whole group, but he’s the only one here now. Last time Louis saw Liam, he was mingling around, still fairly sober, probably trying to keep an eye on the other boys, but that seems like ages ago. Niall he can see is still dancing with a group of girls, all of whom seem bent on going home with him tonight. Good on Niall. Zayn slipped off his radar awhile ago and Harry...Harry was gone as soon as they walked through the door. God knows what he’s up to. 

Louis wonders how long is appropriate to call it a night and head home. He’s not necessarily longing for it, it’s just that he didn’t exactly plan for a night out like this. He thought he’d be asleep by 11pm to be quite honest. Maybe people here don’t call it a night at all, they wait till the wee hours of the morning before dragging themselves into their cars to return home and wait for nightfall so they can do it all again.

He wouldn’t be surprised. 

Maybe Liam is walking around gathering the boys now, to call the cars and go home. Liam has a levelhead, surely he realizes everyone needs sleep to function tomorrow. He’s probably rounding people up now. Louis will go find him and see what the plan is. He slides out of the booth and stands up, glad that his head doesn’t spin. He must not be too out of it then. That might be a first. 

The crowd on the dancefloor are still going strong, which Louis has to be mildly impressed with. Some of those people have been there for hours, literally. He skirts along the edge of it, trying to peer over heads to see if he can find any of his group. Alright, perhaps his height is serving him a disadvantage at this time. People in LA are tall, there’s nothing he can do about it. 

“Louis!” a slurring voice grabs his attention, making him spin around at the same time Zayn stumbles into him gracelessly, crushing him into a hug. His grip is surprisingly strong for how thin he is, combined with how obviously intoxicated he is. “You’re here!”

“I came here with you,” Louis replies, returning the hug lightly, in mild confusion.

“Even better! I am so so glad you’re here. Not here, but  _ here _ , you know?  _ Here. _ We need you here. You. You’re the good one. You’ll make it here, I know it.” Zayn doesn’t seem inclined to lessen his grip anytime soon, and Louis is beginning to feel slightly suffocated. He has no idea what Zayn is talking about anyways. 

“I’ll- yeah, I’ll definitely try, mate. You want to let go and we’ll find you some water, yeah?”

“No, no, no,” Zayn pulls back and straightens up. “Don’t worry about me, Lou, I am the  _ best of the best _ .”

“Yeah?” Louis asks, amused.

“Yeah,” the younger boy agrees. “So good, never been better,” he claps Louis’s shoulder. “You like it here, yeah? You’re happy?”

Louis doesn’t know if ‘happy’ is the right word for the moment, but there’s a sort of sweetness behind Zayn’s words - or maybe it’s just the fact that he cares, but either way Louis nods. “Happy as I’ll ever be, mate.”

Zayn beams, pleased as ever, but his eyes slide in and out of focus. “Good. Great. I’m gonna go...find some...food, they have food, right? Love food. Okay bye.”

“Bye,” Louis echoes, probably too quiet to be heard anyways. He debates following Zayn, making sure he gets food, and water ideally. Evidently he’s completely shitfaced, but Louis has his own agenda. Zayn will be fine, it’s not as if he’s had Louis around his whole life to rely on. If he couldn’t manage on his own, they wouldn’t be here. Louis is still bent on finding Liam to see when they’ll go home, he’s starting to become a little sick of all the noise and flashing lights. 

It's only about ten minutes before Louis begins to get frustrated. There's way too many people in here, he'll never find anyone. Even Niall has since disappeared from his attention vying crowd of girls. Maybe they've all left without him and they're headed home having a massive laugh about how naive and gullible Louis is. An irrational twinge of annoyance flickers through him at the thought. 

Fed up, Louis reaches into his pocket to pull out his phone and ring Liam, only to discover...yeah, his phone is at the front. And he doesn’t even know if he can get it back without Liam, who’s name they’ve left their belongings under. Life is way too fucking complicated here, he wants to be back in Doncaster drinking cheap beer and playing FIFA with his mates and crashin on the couch. Everything was good and simple back then, he didn’t appreciate it enough. 

God damnit, he might as well at least  _ try _ to go retrieve his phone, though he’s so turned around it will be a job alone to find the entrance. He’s squeezing past two girls in skimpy, sequined dresses making out - licking each other would be a better summary - when someone bumps into him roughly, shoving him into a pillar. They turn around to mutter an apology, and Louis realizes who it is. Harry, face flushed, and his long hair clinging to his forehead with sweat. He looks obnoxiously good like that, slightly fucked out and licentious. Louis really shouldn’t be thinking like that, he’s drunk and has terrible judgement.

Harry opens his mouth, like he’s about to say something, but is second guessing whether or not he should. “Come with me.” His voice is so low, Louis has no idea how he heard it over the sound around them.

“Why?” he doesn’t mean for his voice to come out as suspicious as it does. Or maybe he did mean it.

“I need help.”

“Get Liam.”

Louis knows he’s being cold, but he doesn’t owe Harry Styles  _ shit _ . He can go fuck himself, coming to Louis for help. They’ve barely even spoken to each other, why would he want Louis’s help?

“I can’t  _ find _ Liam,” Harry hisses. “Zayn’s fainted.”

“Zayn  _ what?” _ if Louis was holding a drink, this seems like the kind of moment he’d drop it dramatically in shock. He knew he should have followed Zayn, he knew. 

“Fainted, fucking fainted-”

“I heard you, you idiot,” Louis says stingily. “Why? Is he okay?”

“I don’t know, I went to find Liam but he’s nowhere, I need someone to help me move him, just come, will you?”

In any other circumstances, Louis would have refused, or at least put up a good fight and made everything difficult for Harry, but this is Zayn on the line and he doesn’t deserve that. Zayn’s always been good to Louis. 

He follows wordlessly, weaving through the crowd behind Harry. Once or twice he considers reaching out and holding Harry’s elbow or his shirt or something so he doesn’t lose him, but before he can make up his mind, they stop so suddenly Louis almost runs into him. He peers around Harry’s shoulder, seeing Zayn propped up against the wall like a rag doll, eyes shut, chin resting on his chest.

“I sat him up, he didn’t wake,” Harry tells him, crouching on Zayn’s left side and motioning for Louis to go to the other. “He’d a dead weight, couldn’t lift him. Grab his arm, yeah. We’ll take him to the booth, it’s out of the way.”

They heave Zayn to his feet haphazardly, beginning to half-drag, half-carry him. No one pays them any mind, which Louis is both grateful for an appalled by. Nobody noticing two men dragging an unconscious body through a nightclub is somewhat disturbing. Almost as disturbing as the realization that he and Harry are working seamlessly together, no questions asked. His arm, looped around Zayn’s torso, is pressing up against Harry’s ribcage. Louis can almost feel his heart beating.

They reach the booth quickly and tip Zayn into it. Harry grabs a stray glass of ice water, spilling some onto his hand and slapping Zayn’s face gently with cold fingers. The younger boy inhales sharply, straightening up just barely and blinking sluggishly. He sees Harry crouched in front of him and smiles.

“Hazza,” his voice is just as slurred as before, if not more. “You’re here.”

It’s the same thing he said to Louis earlier when he ran into him. Harry nods, gripping Zayn’s shoulder to keep him upright. 

“Yeah, I’m here. What did you do, have you taken something?”

Zayn squeezes his eyes shut, thinking, or perhaps just trying to block out the flashes of light coming from the dance floor. “Yeaaah, it was the good stuff. Walked around for a second, met  _ lovely Lou- _ ” he gestures vaguely in Louis’ direction. “Went to find a snack...saw you, Harry, and  _ boom _ all gone. I left.”

“Left where?”

“My head. I just left.”

“You mean you passed out?”

“I left,” Zayn corrects gently, like Harry is a rather dumb child that he’s trying to teach. Louis wonders in slight concern what the extent of Zayn’s intoxication is. Does he need a hospital? Will he be okay? Louis has never done anything more than smoke a joint or two, he doesn’t know what to do in these situations.

“Okay, just tell me what you took, alright?” Harry’s thumb is rubbing circles on Zayn’s shoulder, absentminded. Caring. It’s a caring gesture. Louis hasn’t ever seen him be caring or gentle like this, not even with his girlfriend, Paisley or whatever. He didn’t realize caring was a thing Harry did.

“I don’t know,” Zayn shrugs up and down a couple times. “Little pink tablet.  _ No _ idea, but it has me good. You should try it, you both should try it, that’d be so great.”

“You don’t know what it was? Who gave it to you?”

“A man.”

“Which man?”

“The one that gave it to me,” Zayn says evasively. 

“You know, right? You know who gave it to you?”

Zayn stays suspiciously quiet, and Harry shakes him a little after a second. “You don’t know? You took some random shit from a stranger? You stupid bastard, why would you-”

“I’ve seen you do a line off of some guy’s sweaty abs,” Zayn slurs. “You can’t get mad.”

“That was me, not you,” Harry replies, as if that’s a logical argument. “You’re not fucking stupid, what would Liam-”

“Liam knows I like to have fun,” Zayn’s voice is brittle.

“Liam knows you’re a fucking idiot, more like.” Harry hisses. “Look at me, hey, look at me. We’re losing him again, Louis, hand me that water.”

Louis snatches it off the table, shoving it at Harry, who trickles some down Zayn’s spine. He blinks his eyes open a bit, swaying lightly on the spot. If Harry hadn’t been crouched in front of him holding Zayn up he almost definitely would have fallen. He whines softly. “I feel so...I don’t feel good.”

Zayn slides off the booth onto his knees in front of Harry and barely manages to lean to the side before throwing up all over the floor. He heaves for a second, and Louis hands him the glass of water when he goes upright again.

“Do we need to take him to the hospital or something? Where  _ is _ everyone?”

“He’s fine, he’ll be fine,” Harry says, but his voice is low, measured, and Louis wonders if he means it or if he’s simply comforting Zayn. 

“What if he’s overdosed on something?” Louis can’t keep the tight note of worry out of his voice. He doesn’t understand why Harry’s so calm. 

“He hasn’t,” Harry says sharply. “You’re fine, yeah? Can you breathe?”

Zayn nods weakly, eyes fluttering shut. 

“No no, open your eyes, open, yeah. Good, good, your eyes are fine, you’re fine, he’s fine. He’s just taken something bad and it’s made him sick.”

“We should still get Liam,” Louis insists. He has more trust in Liam’s judgement than Harry’s, it’s like running to your parents when something happens. No matter what they’ll know what to do. 

Harry nudges Zayn up, tugging him to his feet where he stands weakly. “You want to go find Liam?” he asks. “We’ll go home.”

Zayn doesn’t even nod, he just rests his head on Harry’s shoulder.

“Excuse me,” a voice snags their attention, making Louis and the other two turn. A boy - man, really, platinum blond with a nose ring and about 12 earrings stands in front of them. “Hi, sorry, I was just looking for him,” he waves his hand, gesturing to Zayn. “We met earlier, planned on heading out of here together.”

“No.”

Louis and Harry’s voices both ring out at the same time, and the other man looks affronted. 

“I’m sorry?”

“No,” Harry repeats. “He’s been sick, sorry. Plans changed.”

The guy smiles, a little cold. “You don’t get to tell people what to do, buddy,” he holds his hand out to Zayn, who’s eyelids are hovering between open and half shut. He looks exhausted, completely out of it. When Zayn doesn’t reply, the man reaches out, a little more aggressive. Louis moves - to do what, he doesn’t know. Stand in front of Zayn, maybe? - but Harry’s already grabbed the other boy, holding his arm protectively. Louis gets the feeling that if this blond lad pushes his luck any further, Harry won’t hesitate to hit him. Maybe being a deranged alcoholic psychopath is a good thing when it comes to protection. 

“Don’t,” Harry’s voice is quiet, but fully commanding. “If you come any closer I’m calling for security.”

“I’m not looking for trouble, dude, but he and I made plans to leave and-”

“Fuck off,” the words slip out of Louis’s mouth before he can think them through. “He’s barely standing up, you fucking creep, what the hell are you going to do, leaving with him? Asshole.”

The blond puts his hands up. “Look, whatever man.”

“Yeah, whatever. Dance away, mate.”

The man’s eyes are dark, but he turns away sneeringly, slinking back into the crowd. Louis sort of wants to boo or shout in his direction, but that’s probably a bit of an overkill, so he remains silent. Zayn half topples onto Harry’s shoulder, but he was close enough that it hardly matters anyways. 

“Do you think that guy gave him something on purpose, drugged him so they could leave together?” Louis asks Harry in a low voice.

“I don’t know, but it doesn’t matter. I’m finding Liam and we’re leaving right now. Take him,” he tips Zayn gracelessly into Louis’s arms, sending him stumbling back a few steps. It’s a good thing Zayn’s as small as he is.

“Just...stay. Don’t let him out of your sight, I won’t take long.”

Louis nods, backing up so he can lean against the wall. Harry disappears into the crowd, leaving him alone with Zayn, who’s left consciousness again, though judging by his gentle breaths, it sounds more like he’s sleeping this time around.

It’s five minutes, tops, before Harry returns with Liam and Niall in tow. Louis doesn’t question how he found them so fast, he’s mostly just grateful as Liam takes Zayn’s limp form, scooping him up without much effort and leading the group to the door. 

“What’s happened?” Niall leans towards Louis. “Saw Harry whispering to Zayn, but he won’t say shit to me, he’s all moody now.”

“I dunno, Zayn took something. He’s fine, I think, but out of it and wants to go home."

"Oh," Niall looks shockingly unconcerned. "That's usually Harry's move. On my  _ birthday _ , too."

"Technically, it's not your birthday anymore. It's morning, now."

Niall makes mocking noises at him. "Whatever. Does anyone want to stop for cake?"

-

They do not end up stopping for cake. Liam calls for their driver, and they pile into the car as soon as he arrives. Instead of sitting shotgun as usual, he lets Niall take the front, choosing to be in the middle with Zayn, and letting the younger boy sleep on his shoulder. That puts Harry in the backseat, pointedly ignoring Louis. Figures. 

Louis doesn't really know if or why he expected anything more. 

The mood is a little prickly. Not tense, but quiet. Tired. They all just want to be home now. When they pull up to the house and park, Liam says he still needs to type up a few emails before he goes to bed, and passes Zayn gingerly to Harry and Niall, who grip him tight and help him up the steps into the house. Nobody asks Louis to do anything, so he assumes he's not needed anymore. That's fine. It's late anyways, he should be going to bed. 

The clock in his room upstairs informs him it's nearing 3am. Louis can't tell if the night went fast, or if it dragged by. Both seem fitting. He drags himself into the shower to rinse off the grimy, sweaty nightclub feeling on his skin. The showers here are good, he'll miss the showers when he leaves.

Louis feels better when he gets out. Sleepy and clean. He'll probably have something of a hangover tomorrow, but tonight it's not terrible. Could be worse, really. He dresses in sweatpants and a soft t-shirt. Briefly, he entertains the idea of just climbing into bed and calling it a night, but he'd feel a little guilty for not checking on Zayn first, just to clear his conscience, make sure someone is with him and that he's alright. 

Louis slips on a pair of socks - it's feeling a little chilly tonight - and pads down the hall to where he's sure Zayn's room is. He's never been, but all the bedrooms are up here, he's almost positive. 

The door at the end of the hall is ajar, emitting warm light, and Louis heads for it, slowing when he hears low voices from inside. He paused by the door jamb, peering in. Zayn's curled up on a pile of pillows, tucked on his side. Harry's kneeling at the edge of the bed next to him, holding the other boy's wrist gently. He's speaking to him in a quiet, soft voice, and Louis isn't near enough to make out any words, but Zayn is smiling sleepily, eyes fluttering between open and shut. He murmurs something in reply, making Harry nod and laugh.

Louis's never heard him laugh before. A sarcastic smile at most, but in that room is a person that barely resembles the cold, plastic persona he would expect from Harry. The person in that room is gentle, and caring, and without a doubt, puts his friends before himself. 

It doesn't make sense. Louis can read people, and he's got his mind made up about Harry. There's no hidden side to him, because he would have guessed it by now. He always sees these things coming. And yet there's no mistaking, that's Harry, whispering softly and rubbing circles on the back of Zayn's hand. There's something so delicate and tender about it, he can feel their closeness almost as if he was on the receiving end of it. Louis knew they were friends, they live together for God's sake, but he never realized to what extent that went. Harry's looked after him tonight like Zayn was his own brother, with protectiveness and unwavering solidarity. He cares. He cares and Louis  _ can't _ wrap his head around that. 

He should leave. Go back to his room. He came to make sure Zayn was okay, and clearly he is. He's lingering here for no reason now. In the room, Harry rises to his feet, saying something along the lines of  _ 'you need to sleep' _ . Louis doesn't move, which in retrospect, was stupid, because now that Harry's standing, his eyeline is different. All it took was a glance at the door for his eyes to meet Louis'. He doesn't react for a fraction of a second, and then his expression seems to darken, face becoming cloudy. 

Shit, Louis should have been smart and left when he realized Harry was there in the first place. He feels almost guilty now, for eavesdropping, unintentionally or not, on a moment that didn't involve him. He's intruding, he's  _ so _ nosy, and he hates himself for it. 

Harry murmurs a goodnight to Zayn, who echoes it back at him quietly and strides towards the door. Louis can hear his footsteps, and he has absolutely no idea why he's not moving, trying to slip away before Harry can have substantial proof that he was eavesdropping. He could leave and deny any and all accusations. He doesn't know why he's waiting, waiting for Harry to come out and see him. 

The door opens, and Harry steps out, shutting it fully behind him. He glances at Louis for hardly a second. His eyes are green. Louis doesn't know why, maybe he never looked at them in the light before, but he'd always assumed they were brown. But they're not, they're a clear, deep green. He's not sure why that's what's grabbing his attention right now. He always did have a habit of seizing onto little details to avoid the bigger picture. 

The silence between them is deafening. Louis expected bitter spitefulness from Harry for eavesdropping, but the quiet is worse. He wonders if it would be appropriate to turn around and walk away without a word from either of them, when Harry speaks. 

"I'm not a monster, you know." His voice is low, and guarded. Louis opens his mouth to reply, but nothing comes out. He doesn't know what to say to that. He can argue, he can argue till the end of their days, but he can't do anything at all with such a simple, almost hurt statement. "I care for them, for all the boys, they're my family. I know that shocks you-"

"It doesn't shock me," Louis lies, voice too quiet, too soft. It's not the truth, but it feels like the right thing to say. 

Harry gives a short, unamused laugh. "don't bother, it was written all over your face earlier. You think I'm some sort of evil, self absorbed creature, but I'd never let anything happen to them. Ever. You don't know me."

"I'm sorry," Louis whispers. He doesn't know what he's apologizing for, but the words are all he can produce. He wants to fight, cuss him out and show him he won't be shoved around. But he can't seem to find the anger in him, because there's no anger in Harry's voice. He just sounds hollow. Achingly hollow in a way that makes Louis sad, rather than upset. 

"Just, go. It's so fucking late," Harry waves him off, shaking his head. He looks exhausted. Too exhausted for a kid. Louis wants to say something - anything, really - but he can't seem to form any proper thoughts right now. He'll blame it on the fact that it's 3am and he night hasn't exactly been relaxing. The easiest thing to do right now will be to leave. Walk away, he can't change anything now. 

The whole house is achingly quiet as Louis returns to his room and climbs into bed. No footsteps, no random, out of place creaking. He misses the sound of his sisters, Fizzy and Lottie whispering in their room, refusing to go to sleep at a proper time. The twins tossing and turning in their beds, or sometimes his mum reading to them in her gentle, comforting voice. Louis doesn't know  _ why _ but he just feels so sad. So homesick and lonely in the silence of this giant house. He doesn't usually feel hurt for no reason, he prides himself on keeping it together most of the time. Louis doesn't get like this, it's not him. 

He rolls over in his bed, gripping his pillow and wishing it was his mum or his sisters, someone he could talk to, or hold without having to explain why. He doesn't cry, he never reaches the point of tears before he falls asleep. But he almost wishes he would have, because maybe it would have felt better than the unforgiving silence. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wellllcome back. This chapter was actually long as fuck, but there was no good way to break it up. 
> 
> So the dramas begun, how are we feeling about that? I enjoyed writing drunk zayn way too much tbh. 
> 
> Shoutout to Em because I'm 97% sure she was the one who had the idea that inspired the club scene when I first started writing this. Everyone say thanks Em
> 
> The song for this chapter is "Dead Inside" by Younger Hunger because it's upbeat and dark at the same time like the club scene, and I just really vibe with that. 
> 
> Thanks for the sweet comments on this so far, peeps 💞


	11. Chapter 11

Louis wakes up the next morning with a headache, though he can’t pretend that’s all together unexpected or undeserved.

Truthfully, it’s not as bad as it could have been. He sits up gingerly, wincing a bit as he stretches. A shower would be nice, but he showered before he went to bed so there’s nothing much to shower off. He’ll settle for some water and a light breakfast and see where that takes him. 

Louis pads downstairs barefoot. The house is quiet, and Zayn’s door is shut, making Louis remember the full extent of last night’s events. He can decide if it’s more or less strange now that he’s gained a couple hours sleep and some perspective. When Louis enters the kitchen, he finds the other boys, sans Zayn, sitting around the counter, all of them still in pajamas. He’s glad he’s not the only one who skipped getting dressed this morning. 

Niall looks up from a plate of what looks like the remnants of some sort of pie. “Good morning!” he sings cheerily. The irish must truly not get hangovers because this kid looks absolutely no worse for the wear. Sunshine and business as usual. Liam’s leaning on the counter, absorbed in his MacBook, and Harry’s perched on a barstool, one leg drawn up to his chest while he reads a worn, dog eared book. Like Niall, he doesn’t look particularly haggard after last night’s activities, he looks comfortable more than anything, with his grey sweatpants and clean hair falling in messy waves into his face. He keeps blowing it out of his eyes with distracted little puffs of air.

It’s the sweatpants, Louis decides. Every boy looks good in sweatpants, Harry’s not special. 

“Morning,” Louis murmurs softly. His voice is a little shot, he might have gone a little overboard with the singing and dancing last night.

“There’s orange juice,” Liam gestures to the pitcher on the counter. “And whatever you’d like from the fridge. Oh, and ibuprofen on the counter if you need it.”

Hangovers are not uncommon around these parts, apparently. Louis helps himself to a glass of juice and slides onto one of the stools by Niall, who elbows him.

“How about last night, yeah? A real LA party, what’d ya think?”

“It was, uhm, it was definitely different than how we do it in Donny,” Louis agrees, and Niall shrugs. 

“You’ll adjust fast. Pie?” he slides a tin towards Louis. 

“Not hungry just yet, thanks.”

“Suit yourself,” Niall takes the pie for himself and starts eating again at a rapid speed. “We got anything for today, Li?”

Liam looks up from murmuring to himself while he stares intently at the screen. “Hm? Eh, no, I’ve cancelled your interview with Capital FM.”

Niall slams his fork down. “The fan mail one? You  _ cancelled _ our reading fan mail interview? I wanted to do that one!” he cries.

“They’ll reschedule,” Liam hushes him. “Zayn’s not well, he should be resting today.”

“Someone’s always unwell,” Niall grumbles. “You baby him.”

"Nobody gets babied more than you, Niall" Harry murmurs, not looking up from his book. "Last time you were sick, you made Liam go get you a heated blanket and then sit and feed you Triscuits  _ all _ day."

"I was  _ sick _ ," Niall crosses his arms defensively. "Zayn's fine, he's always fine."

"Because I let him rest when he needs it," Liam says tersely. "It's already been cancelled, I can't undo it."

"Bugger," Niall whispers sadly, and Louis would almost feel bad for him if he wasn't upset over something so very trivial. 

The kitchen door swings open, making everyone look up as Zayn walks in. He looks a little paler than usual, and surely more unkempt, but not all together terrible. "Good morning," he says hoarsely, summoning a half-hearted smile for them. Liam shuts his computer, standing up. "You should be resting."

"I'm fine," Zayn insists. "Woke up an hour ago, I tried the whole ‘laying in bed and resting’ thing, it wasn’t working for me, Li, I’m fine.”

“Absolutely not,” Liam shakes his head, ignoring everything the other boy just said and comes around the kitchen island to him, grabbing Zayn’s shoulders and spinning him around so he’s facing the door again. “You go back to bed.”

“Liam,” Zayn protests. “You don’t need to put me on bed rest, I got drunk and it was nothing. Harry got drunk. Niall got  _ pissed- _ ”

“Not pissed enough to take ecstasy from a stranger,” Niall snickers, earning him a sharp look from Liam. The smile slips the blonde pulls a face. “What? If we can’t talk about it we shouldn’t be doing it, right?”

At the counter, Harry looks up from his book, frowning. “Isn’t that saying for sex?”

“Pretty fucking sure it’s for both when you’re seventeen,” Niall shoots back. 

“Both of you, shut up,” Liam quiets them, still holding Zayn’s shoulders. “And you, you’re not gonna be up and about right now.”

“You’re overreacting,” Zayn murmurs, almost pouting. Louis can almost feel the tension simmering beneath the surface. Liam inhales deeply, like he’s trying to steel himself. 

“If you’re going to act  _ irresponsibly- _ ” he begins heatedly. Zayn shakes Liam’s hands off of him and steps away. 

“I was only having a bit of fun, you know. You always get like this.”

“A bit of fun isn’t passing out in a club! I mean, what if no one had been around? What if some stranger, lurking, I don’t know, weirdo grabbed you?”

Louis wonders privately if Harry had told him about the unsettling interaction with the man who wanted to take Zayn home with him. For all their sakes, Louis hopes Harry kept his mouth closed. Liam seems pressed enough over the situation already.

“There are a million terrible things that could have happened to you!”

“And none of them did,” Zayn crosses his arms. Louis’ never seen him like this. Stubborn, almost childish. He always comes off as so poised.

Liam runs his fingers through his hair, clearly frustrated. “You  _ never _ listen, one day, I swear-”

“Liam,” Harry cuts over them both, his voice soft. Louis finds himself once again taken aback by how firm and gentle he can come off. It’s so very...not Harry. “Give it a rest.”

“I’m responsible for him, so let me be responsible,” Liam sounds snippy. It’s not completely unjustified, Louis has to admit. It’s not infrequently that he wonders how Liam handles the day to day stress of these three. 

“I know that, but arguing isn’t helping,” Harry slides off his stool, taking Zayn’s elbow and guiding him to the doorway. “We’re going to go sit-  _ in the garden _ ,” he clarifies, before Zayn can protest, and Liam looks mollified. "I'll bring him water and a bit of food. Restful things like that."

“Sure,” Liam murmurs reluctantly. Zayn allows himself to be tugged out of the kitchen gently by Harry, and Louis can hear the two of them conversing as they walk away. 

Louis can’t say he would have pegged Harry as a potential peacemaker between people here. He doesn’t understand how two completely opposite personalities can meld together to form one person, or why one personality is so dominant over the other. It's been weeks now and last night was the first time Louis had the distinct impression that Harry's not a robot. Not one bit of this makes sense. 

"I'm going to go shower," Liam informs them, rubbing his eyes. He looks tired. Louis would be tired too if one of his charges nearly overdosed in a club. It's a miracle Liam doesn't have gray hair already. "Niall, just make sure Zayn's not up and about, yeah? I don't care what Harry says about being restful, when have they ever been known to be responsible together?"

"Yeah yeah," Niall waves him off. "You stress too much, Li, you know that?"

"If only you were in my shoes, Niall," Liam calls back before turning up the stairs. 

Niall shakes his head. "Never a boring moment around here."

-

The sun in Los Angeles is relentless, beating down around them like it’s trying to burn out the impurities of the city. Even in the shade of the balcony where Louis’ curled it’s too warm, making him feel lethargic and sleepy. He never did deal with heat well. 

Zayn is laying in the lounge chair beside him, dark sunglasses hiding his eyes. He could be asleep by now, Louis gets the feeling he’s been dozing on and off for several hours. Liam would probably be happy to know that. 

Harry’s sitting on the ground on Zayn’s otherside, which makes Louis wonder if that’s a clever idea to avoid overheating. The whole balcony is done in marbled stone, making the floor cool to the touch, though, Louis supposes if Harry was really against being warm, he could simply go inside where there’s air conditioning on every level. He shows no inclination of being uncomfortable, sitting with a cigarette and his book in his lap. Louis can’t see the title, but it must be a really good book, since he’s been at it all day. 

Louis tilts his head, trying to peer under Harry’s hand at the cover of the book, but quickly finding it impossible and abandoning the attempt. To be frank, he’s not much of a reader anyways so it doesn’t matter. 

His eyes wander curiously up to Harry’s torso, drawn to the ink doodles and pieces there. He discarded his shirt a while ago, probably in an effort to keep cool. Louis doesn’t care about that, he just has a thing with tattoos because he’s nosy and always wants to know what they mean. All of Harry’s seem mismatched and nonsensical, some of them detailed and impressive, others barely a sketch. More of a scratch than anything. Louis shouldn’t have the annoying urge to reach out and trace one. Knowing Harry he’d probably sucker punch Louis in the nose if he did that anyways.

A quickening of footsteps and a crash in the doorway pulls Louis attention, making him look up when Niall bursts out in swim trunks and shades. “Who wants to go swimming?”

There’s an underwhelming response of pure silence, until Zayn rolls over, surprising Louis. He really did think he was asleep. 

“I don’t, I’m cold.”

Niall’s mouth opens in shock. “It’s a  _ thousand _ degrees,” he says, disgusted. 

“A hundred and one,” Harry murmurs. Louis quietly thinks either way is too hot to be alive.

“Whatever,” Niall brushes them both off. “You’re not supposed to be smoking, Zayn’s resting.”

“‘’S not like I’m bloody screaming at him, who cares?”

“I’m gonna tell Liam, he told me to watch you. I’m in charge now.”

Harry shuts his book, exasperated. “ _ Zayn _ isn’t smoking, Niall, fuck off.”

“Still telling.”

“Cunt,” Harry whispers, clambering to his feet. “Can we just go swim instead?”

“Yes,” Niall pumps his arm in triumph, and Louis knows full well he baited Harry into joining him. Little Irish demon knows his craft. Both boys head for the stairway at the side of the balcony, leading down to the gardens and pool. After a moment Louis hears the loud splashes of them both leaping into the water. It’s not unpleasant, lounging lazily, listening to them casually attempt to drown each other while birds chirp contentedly around them. If it weren’t for the heat, Louis wouldn’t mind it here.

“Lou,” Zayn's voice pulls his attention, moreso when he reaches over and taps Louis’s wrist.

“Yeah?”

The younger boy's eyes are still covered by his sunglasses, but Louis can tell by his pensive frown that he's brooding. “I’m sorry.”

Louis sits up at that, looking over at the other boy. “For what?”

Zayn huffs his sweaty bangs off his forehead and looks up, sighing. “For last night, I don’t know. For making you have to deal with that.”

“It’s fine,” Louis replies softly. “I don’t care.”

Zayn chews his lip, and Louis is concerned at how almost distraught he looks. “It’s just, people don’t like to see it, you know? We’re so  _ young _ and all that bullshit, they don’t want to see kids behave like that. Or maybe they don’t want to feel guilty for endorsing an industry that pressures us till we’re forced to act that way just to cope with it all, I don’t know. But they leave,” his voice is measured, like he’s trying to keep it steady.

“Our old handler left, the cook was here for a long time, but he left too. We never have regular staff here, they always come and go. You know, even when we all had to do that stupid mandatory schooling provided on set because we couldn’t attend regular school, we had three different teachers in one semester. They kept saying they didn’t like our behavior. Course, nobody offered to help us change, they just brought in the next teacher. We dropped out, so it doesn’t matter anymore, but what I’m saying is...I-  _ we  _ aren’t trying to make you leave, okay? We don’t do it on purpose, I know Liam thinks we drive people off just to be difficult sometimes, but we don’t. It just happens. So don’t,” Zayn’s voice is almost too low to hear now. “Don’t leave. Cause I think things are better when someone’s here.”

The plea is quiet, but it feels desperate and loud to Louis, making him sadder than he wants to think about right now. Maybe Louis understands too much of what he’s saying, about people leaving and feeling responsible for it.

“Don’t be stupid,” Louis says softly, trying to keep his emotions intact. “I’m not going to leave. I said I’d stay on for the whole project, so I’m staying on for the whole project. You’ve got months with me, yeah? You’ll be ready to send me off by the end.”

Zayn gives a little smile, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. Louis taps the other boy’s arm with his knuckles. “I understand, yeah? My dad left when I was little...and then my stepdad, and...I didn’t know why. I think it hurts more when you don’t know why. You start blaming yourself and you can’t get out of those thoughts after a while.”

“Yeah,” Zayn agrees, leaning his head back in his chair. “Yeah.”

It’s quiet for a moment. The sound of water splashing and Niall shouting at Harry floats hazily through the air. “You’re stuck with me, Zayn,” Louis bumps their arms together, and Zayn’s smile looks a little more genuine this time.

“Better you than the next guy, right?”

“We’ll never know.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short chapter again, but it is what it is
> 
> I literally have nothing to say here. I should be sleeping right now but instead I'm editing this chapter to post. We love quarantine life ✌️😗
> 
> Okay seriously, going to bed now, enjoy le chapter


	12. Chapter 12

The week that passes after that is the first where Louis finds himself fully used to being there. The whole thing goes by so fast that it’s Friday evening before Louis realizes he didn’t feel longingly homesick from time to time. Of course, that probably means he didn’t call his family as much as he should of, and that makes him feel guilty, but at the same time...he’s adapting, and that’s a good thing.

He considers Zayn a real friend now. Liam was right that first day, Zayn really was just shy. Once you get past his off-putting shell, he’s surprisingly lovely and funny, the kind of person whose conversations never run dry. He’s also surprisingly affectionate, which Louis thinks goes under appreciated in this world. Niall is erratic as ever, but honestly, he grew on Louis from day one. He’s just infectiously excited about everything. Louis’ never seen him in a bad mood. He’s like a small, blond sun. And Liam, Liam really is good for a laugh. When he’s not being driven up the wall by the boys and his 700 things to do, he makes everything around him a little warmer and more comfortable. He’s the glue that holds them all together.

Harry is the only missing piece of the puzzle. He seems moodier than ever, sulking around the house, disappearing for hours, brooding through meals. It would probably bother Louis more if he didn’t feel so at ease with the other boys. He can’t say it doesn’t irk him, but at least it’s not consumingly obnoxious. For the most part, he can ignore Harry as much as possible and pretend he doesn’t exist.

Except when he’s taking pictures of him. Then he has to look, just a little.

They actually didn’t film that much this week though. Zayn ended up getting sick - although he insists it was just a cold, not after effects of whatever he took at the party - so they all spent the majority of three days crowded onto the bed and chairs in Zayn’s room binging Grey’s Anatomy so he didn’t have to be by himself. Of course, Harry either sat silently and dampened the mood of the entire group, or he complained and critiqued the show endlessly. Louis might have accidentally kicked him in the shoulder at one point to get him to shut up, but if he did, he’s not telling.

After that they headed back to set and shoot for a couple days. The boys aren’t far off from being done taping the third and final season of their TV show, and then it’ll be full focus on the documentary piece for a few months till they wrap, and Louis will say goodbye and fly back home to Doncaster. The thought makes him strangely sad already. 

It’s early morning now, Louis has just showered. He’s not usually the guy to shower every day, but the facilities here are just magnificent, he wants to take advantage of them for as long as he can. It’s not a shower; it’s an experience. 

He throws on jeans and a T-shirt, spending a minute looking for his trainers, but giving up and heading downstairs barefoot after he can’t find them.

The kitchen is empty when he comes in, which isn’t unusual for this hour, he supposes. It’s still quite early. The fridge and pantry are stocked with easy snack food, so Louis helps himself to a container of yogurt and a bag of crisps. There’s nobody here to tell him he can’t have that for breakfast, anyways. He’s never been much for cooking. Besides, the upstairs kitchen is more of a common area to sit around and snack, whereas there’s a more functional one downstairs where the cook prepares the meals. 

Louis wonders how rich you have to be before you can justify having a decorational kitchen. 

The door opens just as he’s settling onto a stool with his breakfast - if you can call it that - and queueing up a Netflix Original on his phone. Louis glances over, expecting to see one of the boys, but instead it’s that blonde girl. Harry’s girlfriend...Peyton? She’s wearing nothing but lacy underwear and what’s clearly one of Harry’s T-shirts.

“Hey,” he nods at her. Might as well be friendly, or this is going to be more awkward than it already is. 

“Hi,” she bares her teeth in a very practiced looking grin. “Lewis, right?”

“Louis,” he corrects her. 

“Oh,  _ Louis _ , yeah!” she pads over to the fridge, rummaging through it. “Do you know if there’s any yogurt that’s  _ low _ fat? I don’t know how anyone eats the full fat stuff, it makes me feel so nauseous,” she looks pointedly at the container in Louis’s hand, and he tries not to take the comment as extremely bitchy.

“Dunno,” he murmurs. “It’s all the same to me.”

“Yeah, a lot of people say that, but it’s mostly cause they’re just  _ really _ uneducated on the diet scene. I take my health really seriously,” she nods, eyes wide and dramatic. Louis is pretty sure the low fat diet got debunked a while ago, but to be fair he wouldn’t really know.

“Hm, yeah, it’s...fascinating stuff, that,” he replies, just to be agreeable. To his immense relief, there’s a tap on his shoulder and he turns to find Zayn behind him, smiling and carding his fingers through his tangle of morning hair. 

“Good morning,” he greets pleasantly.

“Morning,” Louis grins, trying not to show  _ obvious _ relief at Zayn’s arrival. He tries to keep his bitchiness to a minimum. “You’re up early.”

“Says you,” Zayn yawns, sliding around the counter and poking around in the fridge.

“Hey, Louis…” Peyton starts slowly, twirling her hair around her finger. “I can’t help but ask, like...are you sure you’re supposed to be eating in the kitchen with the rest of us, like, cause you’re basically an employee, you know?”

The silence following her statement is stiflingly awkward and tense. Before Louis can open his mouth and match her level of cunt, Zayn closes the fridge. “Hey Peyton, are you sure you’re allowed to eat in the kitchen with us, cause you’re just like, another whore Harry sleeps with, you know?” his comment is so smoothly passive aggressive it must deliver a crushing blow. “Least Lou lives here.”

Peyton flushes a dark color. “I’ll live here too one day, I’m sure. Harry and I are really serious, you know.”

Zayn raises his eyebrows, and Louis has to try not to laugh. 

“Then again, I think Harry and I will probably get our  _ own _ place,” Peyton says snarkily. “Away from his toxic ‘friends’.”

“Be my guest,” Zayn says sweetly. “But Harry will always come back home, so have fun while it lasts.”

Peyton makes an offended face, huffing as she spins on her heel. “Whatever,” she stalks off, looking supremely disrespected, and Zayn smirks as soon as she’s out of earshot.

“I take it you’re not a fan of her?” Louis asks, popping the last of his crisps in his mouth. 

Zayn shrugs. “Not even just her specifically, all of them. Harry’s catch of the week or the month or whatever. They’re all the same, singers or actors trying to catch a break, so they glom onto him thinking they can get a bit of the spotlight if they’re seen with him,” Zayn rolls his eyes. “But they’ll never be seen with him because Harry knows that’s all they’re there for. He’ll drop them the second it starts to get a little too real. The worst part is when they start to think they know anything about him. Please, he just feeds them what they want so they stay till he’s done playing.”

Louis quietly thinks that’s a fairly abusive way to operate relationships, but at the same time, if they’re using him and he’s using that to use them, how can you  _ really _ be sure who’s in the wrong?

“Anyways, Peyton’s already been around for like three months, she won’t last much longer so I wouldn’t worry about it. If she’s ever a cunt again, just tell her you think she needs to get her lip fillers redone. That’ll put her in her place.”

“You’re kind of a bitch, you know that?”

Zayn smirks. “So I’ve been told,” he slides off the stool he was perched on and turns to the door. “You wanna smoke?”

-

Smoking was fine till Liam crashed the party by informing them that the documentary crew was coming to the house to film a segment and Zayn needed to go shower so he didn't reek of weed. 

It was all business after that. 

Louis takes a second shower (no, he's not addicted to showering, he just doesn't want to show up to film smelling either. It's about professionalism) 

Usually they film outside, but today they're in the living room, which no one cared to inform Louis about so he very nearly walked into the shot. Thankfully Niall grabbed him before he could enter the room. 

“Shh, live shot,” he warns, and Louis nods to show he’s heard. The crew is centered around the couch where Harry’s sitting between a couple that Louis would peg as in their mid forties. The man has salt and pepper hair and glasses framing warm eyes, and the woman’s brunette curls match Harry’s.

“-Such an energetic boy, always loved singing and dancing for family...we always knew he’d chase his big dreams and make us proud,” the woman’s voice is bursting with pride, and she combs Harry’s bangs off his forehead. He looks content, practically cuddled between them, doe eyes bright.

Louis is prepared to bet an arm and a leg that those are Harry’s parents. They seem perfectly sweet and pleasant in disposition, speaking to the camera fondly about Harry, who’s obviously their pride and joy. 

Not that Louis cares, but he’d always assumed Harry had it rough in the parental area. Seemed the most plausible cause of his, let’s say,  _ behavioral issues _ . At the very least, he thought maybe he didn’t get to see his family much, but here they are, chattering on about how they moved to LA to be close to him and support his career and everything else about his precious life. 

So Louis had it right from day one. Harry’s just a selfish little prick. Does he have any idea how lucky he is to have  _ two _ parents who clearly dote on his very existence and smother him with affection? Unbelievable. Louis would have given anything as a kid to have that sort of normality as the fundamental base of his life. Course he loves his mum and all she’s done, and Mark was always good to them, but they struggled, as a family. They struggled and Louis had to grow up too fast because of it. Harry chose all of this, that’s the difference. He could have been in year twelve being pampered by his parents right now, but instead he’s living in a mansion with four other boys, pissing away his liveliness and acting like the whole world and all of the planets revolve around his tragically misunderstood life.

What a cunt. Everything about it makes Louis irrationally upset. He’s willing to bet not one person has stood up to Harry and told him how very privileged and entitled he is. That kid will spend the rest of his life thinking everyone owes him something because no one ever told him to shut up and stop acting like he’s a poster child for teenage angst and daddy issues.

“ _ Cut, _ ” the director gives a nod. "Okay people, nice work, let's keep this flow and move to the kitchen, alright?"

Louis and Niall linger in the background, trying not to get in the way too much as all of the cameras and cords and floodlights get hauled into the other room. A rushed looking grip assistant unpacks a cooler of ingredients onto the counter, arranging them neatly before backing away. 

"What are they doing?" Louis leans in, whispering in Niall's ear. The younger boy shrugs. 

"Making cookies for a segment I think."

Making cook-

No. Louis is out. He's not going to stand in the hallway watching a film crew tape Harry and his cozy parental unit make cookies together. He's drawing the line. Louis elbows Niall beside him. "Do they need us here?" he mutters. 

"Don't think so," Niall replies, equally quiet. 

"Good. Let's go play FIFA, this is bullshit."

Niall tilts his head, considering Louis' choice of words and then shrugs. "Fair enough. Race you to the basement."

They're probably a bit too loud as they scamper off, but Louis can't be bothered to care. The noise can always be edited out post production, he knows how it works. 

When the two of them reach the lower level of the house and Niall kicks the door to the entertainment room open, Louis remembers fondly just how many perks come with staying in a Hollywood Hills mansion. Namely? Being able to play video games on a full theater sized screen. He won't be taking that one for granted anytime soon. 

Niall pokes around at the floor to ceiling shelf that covers most of the wall behind them, stacked with meticulously organized discs. 

"Where'd Liam head off to?" Louis questions, flopping down on a recliner. "He disappeared."

"Meeting with our team at their HQ. You know, technically we're all supposed to go, but sometimes he tells them we're tired from the week of filming and reps for us. That's why I'll love Liam forever...ugh," Niall breaks off, annoyed. "Can't find my FIFA disc... Zayn always takes them upstairs to play - oh no, wait, here it is," he plucks it off the shelf and vaults over the couch, hooking everything up so the visuals pop into the screen. "Here we go. You want a drink, Lou?" Niall pops around the corner to the mini fridge. "Coke, Fanta in every flavor, lemonade, root beer,  _ beer _ beer…"

"Root beer's great," Louis says, and Niall reappears a minute later with a bottle each for them before hopping onto the couch with his controller. "Ah, doesn't get much better than this."

Air conditioned, fully concealed from the sweltering sun, with a cold drink in his hand, Louis is inclined to agree. 

For the most part, they play in silence, occasionally egging each other on or mocking the other person, but there's no ongoing conversation. Not that Louis minds. He can appreciate the quiet value of just hanging out and playing video games with no significant purpose. 

It’s at least an hour of that, maybe more before their cozy gathering of two is disrupted when Zayn wanders in, holding a baggie of allsorts.

“FIFA?” he questions, leaning up on the back of the couch. 

“Got bored,” Niall shrugs. “I’m sick of filming at the house, this documentary is shit - no offense, Louis.”

“As if I care about the actual documentary,” Louis rolls his eyes.

“Fair enough,” Niall looks up at Zayn. “Come sit.”

Zayn doesn’t need to be told twice. He comes around the couch and sinks down next to Niall, melting against his side. Niall loops his arm around the other boy so he can still utilize both hands on his controller.

“Can I play next?”

“Only if you’re nice,” Niall grumbles.

“I’m always nice to you, Niall,” Zayn replies, cheek squished against Niall’s shoulder.

“You and Harry knocked me to the ground and hit me last week.”

“Well…” there’s an awkward beat, and Zayn holds up his bag of sweets. “Do you want some candy?”

"Do I want some- give it to me," Niall snatches the bag and empties half of it in his mouth, while Zayn just shakes his head. 

They play for a while longer after that, but it gets cut short when Niall starts complaining that his performance has gone down due to Zayn's head cutting off the blood flow to his playing arm. Louis was getting a bit tired of video games anyways, and that says a lot. 

"'m gonna go upstairs and find lunch, lads," he announces, getting to his feet. "Be back."

Zayn nods, not moving from his spot on the couch, and Niall calls after him to bring crisps down when he returns. 

The kitchen is blissfully evacuated of all parents and film crews when Louis enters, which makes him sigh in relief. All he wants is a snack, he was worried he wouldn't be able to get one. But here he is, whole kitchen to himself. 

Louis opens the pantry, weighing his food options. On one hand, it's nearly five o clock, which means dinner shouldn't be too far off, but then, he's pretty sure Liam isn't home yet, and they never eat without Liam, so maybe dinner  _ is _ further off than he imagined. 

He  _ wants _ to open that pack of cookies, but he shouldn't. His resolve won't last long, he knows himself well enough to know that's true. 

Oh whatever, they're just cookies. He snatches the packet and a thing of crisps for Niall, heading for the door just in time to barely miss running smack dab into Harry. For half a moment, there's an awkward second of hesitation, with neither one of them sure who should go through the doorway first, but Harry almost immediately makes up his mind and shoves past Louis, not quite rough, but aggressive enough to bump him back against the wall. 

"You could say excuse you, you know," Louis tells him. He didn't want to start anything, he's simply not one for putting up with being shoved around - literally or metaphorically. Harry glances at Louis over his shoulder, almost rolling his eyes before facing front again. 

Okay, you know- Louis said he didn't  _ want _ to start anything, but if this boy is going to go to the lengths of turning so Louis can see him dismiss him, then what happens after that isn't his fault. He can't be held accountable. 

"What, Mum never taught you how to say 'excuse me?'" Louis says, hoping it comes off every bit as snarky as he intended. This time, Harry freezes, much to Louis's satisfaction. "Such a shame, because she seems like a pleasant lady, must be an embarrassment to have a son who didn't carry on the good manners.

Still facing away from Louis, Harry lifts his fist to rest on the granite countertop, knuckles whitening. "Stop talking," he says softly. Louis can sense the danger in his voice, but he plows on bullheadedly. Never was one for self control. 

"What, are you afraid your mum will hear you from the other room? 'spose that'd be a bit awkward, because then she'd see what a massive dickwad you-"

" _ Stop talking." _

Louis doesn't know how it happened so fast, Harry's hand merely slipped to the side, and in the same second a half empty glass was hitting the unforgiving tile floor, smashing violently upon contact. 

"What's happened?" Liam's voice makes Louis spin on his heel to see him standing in the doorway, sunglasses pushed up into his hair, clearly having just returned home. 

Before Louis can explain the situation - make his excuses, more like - Harry's stepping over the mess of glass shards on the floor and striding out of the room wordlessly. 

"Harry?" Liam's face is clouded with concern as he watches the boy go. "Harry!" He brushes past Louis and heads after Harry. Louis would tell him what happened if the older boy wasn't already gone. Although it's not as if he himself knows what happened.

Only slightly shaken, Louis picks up the crisps packet that had slipped from his hand and heads back towards the basement. He doesn't need to stay up here for anything anyways, Liam's got it under control. Whatever ' _ it' _ is. 

"Louis?"

" _ Jesus" _ Louis starts, hitting the wall behind him as Zayn seems to materialize on the steps in front of him. "You people always  _ sneak _ everywhere."

"Sorry," Zayn murmurs. "I heard something upstairs, I was just going to make sure everything was okay."

"Everything's fine," Louis huffs. He'll be damned if he kicks up an even bigger sympathy party for Harry than the one that Liam's doubtlessly already started. It's almost uncomfortably close with the two of them standing in the basement stairwell. Louis wishes he could slip by and keep walking without looking suspicious. 

"Is the film crew gone?" Zayn asks, creasing his forehead. Louis didn't realize how light his eyes are till now. Amber, more than brown. 

"Yeah, they're gone. I think. I'm pretty sure they're gone. 

"Where's Harry?"

"Sulking, I imagine."

"What's happened to him?"

Louis would throw his hands up in frustration if he didn't run the risk of hitting Zayn in the face with the tight quarters they're in. "What  _ always _ happens with him? You say one wrong thing and he's fucking gone, loses his god damn mind over it."

Zayn sighs, brushing his fingers through his already untidy hair. "He's got a lot of...things to avoid discussion about. Things he doesn't like to have brought up."

"Yeah, I bet it fucking blows to have a cozy morning baking session with your parents, I'd hate that too," Louis snaps. 

Zayn's eyes widen slightly. "Were you talking to him about his parents?"

Louis frowns. "I- no, not really, he was being an ass and I just mentioned- I said that he was acting like a cunt and it'd be unfortunate if his mom came in and saw that."

Zayn reaches out and holds Louis's forearm, looking troubled. "Louis, those people, the couple that were here earlier filming with him, they're, um, they’re not his parents."

" _ What?"  _ Louis jerks out of Zayn's grasp. "What do you mean they're not his parents? All they talked about was how clever and funny and destined-to-be-brilliant he was growing up."

"It's a  _ script _ Louis, a script. They're actors, the producers wanted a picture of a happy family, so they brought in people and hushed them up with NDAs till the end of time. Harry doesn't - look, I don't know everything, I just know that I've never seen him talk to his parents in the whole time I've known him."

"How was I supposed to know that everything here is fucking  _ fake," _ Louis hisses. "Nobody tells me anything, you'd think that's something you'd mention beforehand."

"I'm sorry, I honestly thought you'd figured it out," Zayn really does seem apologetic, though Louis isn't sure if his regret is on Louis' behalf, or Harry's. 

"Figured out that everything here is a lie?" Louis drags his sleeve over his face, distressed. 

Shit.  _ Fuck _ . Louis such an asshole. He's so naive. What if Harry's parents are dead or something, and Louis just dragged them through the mud for not teaching their son manners? God why does he have to be so impulsive and hotheaded. 

"How about," Louis grits his teeth. "Next time something in this house is  _ completely _ and  _ entirely _ staged, someone tells me?"

"I thought Liam would have! I thought he- anyways, it doesn't matter anymore, you know now, so just, let it blow over, yeah? Don't talk to Harry about it, he hates talking about it."

"Yeah, let me just avoid him forever even though I flew from a different continent to be here because of him, sounds peachy."

"I said don't talk about it, not don't talk to  _ him _ ."

"Do you  _ really _ think he wants to talk to me again after this? Already hated my guts."

"Yeah, see?" Zayn claps Louis' shoulder. "He never liked you to begin with, and you've been working around that. No great loss there."

"I hate you," Louis murmurs under his breath. 

-

And Louis tried to put it out of his mind, honestly, he did...for all of about six hours. 

But the thing is that he can be an annoying little prick, sure, and a proud one too, but if there was one thing Louis was taught, it's to never think apologizing is beneath you, especially when you know you screwed up. 

And he did screw up, he knows that much. 

Louis heaves himself off his back, stretched out on his bed, and stands up. He'll find Harry, apologize, and let water under the bridge be water under the bridge. 

The house is quiet as he walks through the hallway and down the stairs. They didn't all eat dinner together this evening, for the first time since Louis has been here. Liam made vague excuses that Harry didn't feel well and disappeared after that. 

Downstairs appears deserted at first sight, the dining room empty, and the living room as well, but Louis can hear unintelligible sounds coming from the den, which is tucked off to the side of the living room and serves as a less formal gathering space, so he peeks in. Liam's sitting on the couch, and Zayn's curled on a pile of pillows leaning on him sleepily while they watch one of the Star Wars films. Louis has no idea which, he never did get into that scene. 

Zayn lifts his head when he sees Louis. "Hey."

His voice is sort of shot. With sleep, probably, or maybe he's upset too. Maybe they're all upset with Louis. He wouldn't blame them. 

"Hey," Louis rocks back and forth on the balls of his feet. "Do you know where Harry is?"

"No idea. His bedroom, probably. He doesn't like people in his room though," Zayn cautions and Louis shrugs. 

"He doesn't like me to begin with, remember?"

The younger boy rolls his eyes and rests his head on Liam's side again. "Fine."

"Louis," Liam calls before Louis can make his way out. "For the love of all that's good, try not to upset him? I spent about four hours cleaning him up and putting him back together today already."

Louis nods, hoping it comes off as reassuring, or at least confident in his abilities not to upset Harry. He's not, though, so that's a lie. He shoves his hands into the pocket of his hoodie and slips from the room, heading for the stairs. He trudges slowly up the staircase, wondering what he’s even going to say.  _ Sorry I insulted your parents who could be dead or something. I didn’t know everyone in this documentary was hired to be here. _

Yeah that doesn’t sound  _ great _ , he can probably work on it.

Louis pauses at the top of the stairs, looking out the tall sliding glass doors that lead to one of the balconies. It’s rarely anything but sunny and bright in Los Angeles, but now there’s a gloomy cloud cover overhead, casting everything in grey looming shadows. Maybe it’ll rain. Louis misses the rain, he thinks it might bolster his spirits, actually. He could probably make it through apologizing to Harry if he knew it was raining.

Well speak of the devil. In the corner, leaning against the balcony railing that overlooks a good portion of the yard, is Harry. Louis can’t see his face, but his shoulders are slumped, giving him a dejected appearance. They say there’s no time like the present. Louis sighs, steeling himself before sliding the door open and stepping outside.

“Harry,” his voice is quiet, brittle. He coughs and tries again. “Harry.”

“What?” Harry’s voice is so low and brooding it could be mistaken for a rumble of thunder. The air has grown damp, and tiny pinpricks of water begin to fall on the tiled floor. Harry shows no inclination of turning around to face him, so Louis presses on.

“I’m sorry about earlier, I was a dick. If I had known, I wouldn’t have...anyways. I’m sorry, okay?” It’s not much of an apology, but it’s all Louis can muster.

Harry’s silent in response. The air seems to have dropped several degrees within minutes. It’s chillingly cold now, and the rain has picked up from gentle droplets, to a steady shower. Louis hugs his arms around his torso in an effort to preserve his body heat. Rain is fine, but he hates being cold, he wants to go inside. But he hates feeling guilty too, and something about how lonely Harry looks standing there, his hair starting to stick to the back of his neck as rain soaks him, makes Louis feel guilty.

“You should come inside,” Louis says quietly. “It’s freezing out here.”

“I’m fine,” Harry tells him. “Just go.”

Louis shifts back and forth, knowing that if he turns around right now and leaves, he’ll still feel guilty over all of it. If he could at least know that Harry wasn’t out here in the rain alone, he might feel better, even just slightly. He opens his mouth, but before he can decide what to say, Harry turns around. 

“Jesus, just  _ leave _ , okay?” his voice is brittle, and Louis realizes with a pang of remorse that he’s been crying. His eyes are red and puffy, and the tears on his cheeks mix with the rain dripping onto his face from his hair. “Go away, you don’t owe me all the pity.”

“I just-” Louis begins, but Harry cuts him off.

“Felt bad? Don’t. I don’t want it. Just leave me alone.”

“Okay,” Louis whispers. He doesn’t even know if Harry can hear him anymore over the sound of the rain hitting the tiles. “I’m sorry.”

He backs away a couple steps, hitting the door frame and turning around so he can go inside. When Louis shuts the door, he can’t stop himself from glancing back at Harry. He’s sunk down into one of the armchairs, tucking his knees up to his chest and resting his forehead on them, like it’s taking everything he has just to hold himself together, and all Louis can think is that he promised Liam he wouldn’t upset Harry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey y'all, an update, finally
> 
> Apparently chapters 5 and 6 weren't public for some reason, I don't know why, but I'm sorry to anyone who tried to read this and it was missing two chapters. Massive shout-out to Emma for helping me get that sorted. They shoooouuld be public now, but who knows if ao3 will screw up for me again 🤷♀️ let me know if you ever notice anything broken or missing or off about the book cause these sites really do be hating me sometimes. 
> 
> I hope everyone is safe during these crazy, hectic times, and remembering to be an active voice in the BLM movement. Silence is violence you guys, use whatever means and platform you have to be the change you want to see 💙💚


	13. Chapter 13

Over the course of the following week, Harry ignores Louis. And not the usual pointed ignoring sprinkled with snarky comments, but genuine avoidance. He seems to dematerialize around Louis, melting away whenever there's a chance they might be in close proximity to each other. Louis can't decide whether or not this is an improvement. He rarely has to see Harry now, but he isn't sure that's worth the cost of feeling guilty.

He doesn't even know what for anymore. He apologized, he went the lengths to make things right, and Harry didn't take on. That's not Louis's fault. There's nothing he can do about that. So why does Louis feel like there's something more to be said on the whole situation?

\---

"Did you know it's been nearly a month since you got here?"

Louis flips up his shades so he can look at Niall. "Hm?"

"It's been a month, since you got here. September 29th, you got here on the first."

Louis furrows his brow. That seems like too long, and far too short at the same time. He still feels too new to the city, and yet he can't imagine not being here. It's like his life in Doncaster melted away from his memory a little, making the thought of returning home sound strange. He shrugs, sliding his sunglasses back over his eyes again. "The more you know."

"They say if you last a month in LA, you'll make it a lifetime."

In the shade of a palm tree by the pool that Niall and Louis are floating lazily in, Zayn looks up, sighing deeply. "That's not true, because I've been here for years and the urge to succumb to my vulnerability and melt away into a weeping pile of broken dreams still haunts me,” his eyes are dark, no light hitting them as he gazes broodingly into nothing but his own preoccupations. He’s been particularly moody and thoughtful this week, having begun perusing the library’s many sonnets and elegies in his spare time.

"Zayn," Niall pulls himself up on the edge of the pool to give the other boy a hard stare. "If you don't stop talking like that within the day, I'm calling an intervention. This whole gothic poetry thing is your absolute worst fixation yet, I mean it."

"It speaks to me," Zayn says simply, leaning back in the grass and fluttering his eyes shut.

"I'm speaking to you right now, pal, and I'm telling you, you better put an end to it fast."

"Or what?"

"Or I'll- I'll - Louis, what will we do?"

Louis combs his chlorine water soaked hair out of his face. "We'll shave your head in your sleep," he offers, and Niall looks satisfied with that suggestion.

"Yeah, we'll just chop it all off, it'll be gone before you realize. You'll look like an egg, do you want to look like an egg, Zayn?"

"I think I'd look quite smashing," Zayn argues mildly. "I'd get all the dates, wherever I went."

"As if Liam would let you get any at all," Niall snickers. Before Louis can ponder the reasoning behind why Harry's allowed to date, but Zayn apparently isn't, the hazy, still air is split by a blood curdling scream.

Zayn sits all the way up, looking around. "What the hell, did you hear that?"

"I think everyone within the neighboring miles heard that," Niall says worriedly, clambering to his feet and pulling Zayn up. Louis hauls himself up on the side of the pool, trying not to fall on the slick pavement as he scrambles after the other boys.

He jogs after them as they cut through the flower beds to the front of the house. Before any of them can even get inside, the front door is torn open and a younger man- Louis would hazard a guess at early 20s - spills out, taking the steps at a run while trying to pull a T-shirt over his head. He looks nothing short of fully alarmed.

Niall opens his mouth. "What in God's green earth-" his sentence is cut short by a shriekingly loud voice filling their ears as all three of them push past the door and into the house.

"-And I knew, I knew you'd turn out to be a lying, cheating piece of shit!"

The scene in the foyer isn't a pretty one to behold; blonde, bitchy Peyton is standing at the foot of the stairs, screaming bloody murder at Harry, who's standing several steps up in nothing but mostly unbuttoned skinny jeans, looking disheveled. There's a broken vase and two cracked picture frames at his feet, and Louis has no doubts that she hurled them at him in her rage. Liam is standing in the doorway to the side, watching the chaotic proceedings with his face in his hands, looking utterly disappointed.

"Oh no," Zayn says softly beside Louis. "I really hoped we'd be able to avoid this."

"What they say is true," Peyton laughs derisively, sounding slightly mad. "Actors really are the scum of the earth, because you are the worst fucking person I'll ever meet," she seizes a decorative book off the hall table beside her and flings it at him. It travels with impressive force and speed, and as much as Louis doesn't care for Harry, he has to wince as the corner of the book snacks his mouth, producing blood from the broken skin almost immediately.

"Okay, alright," Liam pipes up, striding across the room, and jogging up the steps to Harry. "That's enough," he says firmly, putting his arm around the younger boy's shoulders. "You need to go."

Peyton looks deranged as she opens her mouth in shock. Her face is red and blotchy from screeching, and her mascara running. "You're defending him, after what he did to me? He's a whore, lying piece of shit, and he-"

"You have about a minute to be off of this property before I call the police on you for assaulting a minor. That ought to put a dent in your career, yeah?"

Peyton makes an ugly face at Liam, stomping her foot with a frustrated shriek before spinning on her heel. "You're all just as bad as him!" She spits at Louis and the other two, shoving past them to get to the door. "I hope you all feel sick about this later, dicks!"

The door slams behind them with a resounding thud. As soon as she's gone, Zayn strides across the room and up to Harry, worried as if the younger boy were suffering from a fatal wound and not a busted lip.

"Do you want an ice pack?" He offers, tugging him down the stairs to flat ground with Liam.

"No, I'm fine,” he murmurs, swiping at his bloody mouth with the back of his hand. “That wasn't all together unexpected."

"Are you going to explain what just happened?" Liam inquires with a frown and Harry wrinkles his nose.

"No?"

Liam sighs, pulling Harry into the living room while Niall and Louis follow awkwardly. Zayn's dashed from the room, probably to get the unwanted ice pack. "Let me rephrase," Liam pushes the other boy into a chair. "You're going to explain what just happened, or…"

"Or what?" Harry challenges.

"Harry." "Fine! Jesus. Well, Peyton and I broke up."

"You don't say," Liam murmurs dryly. Zayn slips back into the room, sinking down onto Harry's chair with him and holding the ice pack to the younger one's mouth carefully.

"She was getting to be too much," Harry says, jerking his chin away from the ice, and Zayn just moves closer to put it back. "I can't talk when you're shoving that in my face," Harry grumbles, but Zayn doesn't flinch.

"You're going to keep the ice pack there, and you're going to talk around it," he says firmly. Louis has to admire Zayn's ability to be almost threateningly caring.

Harry rolls his eyes. "Prick. Anyways. I didn't know how to end things with her quickly, so I invited her yesterday to come here, conveniently forgot, and so she showed up today and found me with a guy I met at a club last week," he shrugs, like he's merely commenting on the performance of a sports team in their last game.

Louis isn't sure why, but he's not stunned by the revelation of Harry sleeping with a guy. For one, the bloke running out of the house ten minutes ago sort of betrayed this story anyways, and for another thing, Harry strikes him as the kind of person that will pull anyone good looking.

Basically Harry strikes him as a whore. Good on him, if he's into that, Louis supposes.

"Oh Harry," Liam rubs his temples. "What?" Harry's voice is scratchy and dark. "It worked. Don't pretend like you liked her."

"Of course I didn't, but that's just so...there are better ways to handle that kind of thing."

"She was closing in fast. Moving in together, going to awards parties as my date, I'd never go for that bullshit. Besides, she was looking at setting her friend up with one of you. Do you want to date a little pseudo-Peyton, Liam, are you into that?"

Liam makes a face. "No but-"

"Or Zayn, I could just have Zayn get with her cunty little pal, yeah?"

"Alright, okay, it's better to be over. I'm not saying I didn't loathe the sight of her, I just think that was a mess. I mean, we've got a load of broken glass on the stairs now and you've got-"

"A busted lip? I'll live," Harry says in snippy tones. Almost like storm clouds closing in, Harry’s bad mood seems to be brewing underneath the surface, rising fast. “I don’t want a lecture, Liam.”

“Well, you need one,” Liam’s tone matches Harry’s in annoyance. Liam’s patient, it takes a lot to set him off, Louis always feels like if he’s reached the end of his rope, a line has been crossed. “Do you ever actually consider the fact that I only ever try to help you, Harry?”

“Please,” Harry rolls his eyes with a shake of his head. “Don’t act so saintly and wise, you moved out of your Mum’s house into this one, it’s not as if you have all of this worldly experience.”

“I’m older than you, it’s my job to-”

“- to manage our schedules? So manage the schedules, Liam.”

“Harry,” Zayn says in a low voice. “Stop.”

"No," Harry stand up, pushing Zayn off of him. "You can't all stand here like this is some necessary intervention for me, I won't sit here for that. None of you know anything." Harry kicks a footstool to the side as he stalks out of the room. Liam looks like he's making to follow him but Zayn shakes his head.

"Leave him, he's just being temperamental. Pushing him won't help."

Nobody says anything. The silence settling over the room is so tense it could be cut by a knife. Louis wonders if he could back out of the door and get away without anyone noticing.

Niall claps his hands together. "Well, I've been swimming for awhile, is anyone hungry?"

\---

"Louis is here, Lou's here mum, come on!" The grainy video feed kicks in and Fizzy's face looms in the webcam. She leans back once Louis's video chat connects, revealing Phoebe tucked on her lap.

"Hi Lou!" Phoebe waves, chewing on the cuff of her sleeve.

"Hi, love," Louis grins. The sight of his sisters makes him feel warm, like fresh baked bread and gentle rays of sunshine, but a little sad too. Even in just a month he feels like he's missed so much. Fizzy's hair is longer, and Phoebe is missing a couple more teeth. "Where's Mum and the others, Fizz?"

"They're coming, hold on-" Fizzy leans away from the computer and hollers. "MUM! Louis is on, come say hi! And tell Lottie to get off her phone and come downstairs!"

Louis shakes his head, grinning. Never a quiet moment at home, always chaos over there. Maybe that's why he feels at ease here. It's perfectly chaotic every single day, in very different ways, but the concept is still there.

After Harry's outburst earlier he disappeared off, probably to smoke, or sulk. Or both. Liam was proper pissed still, clearly not having said everything he wanted to Harry, but Zayn was calming him down when Louis left. Zayn always seems to have a way with Liam that subdues him, or reassures him. Louis thinks it must be nice to have a mate like that around.

Niall went off to make food (at least some things are consistent) and Louis decided that was his cue to slip away. He went to his room and texted his mum to see if they were available for a video call. It's been too long since he called them, and he wanted the comfort of it anyways.

"Louis!" Jay crowds onto the screen, beaming at him. "How are you, poppet? It's been long enough, you don't call enough, darling."

"Been busy, Mum," Louis shrugs, leaning back in his chair. "Loads to do, you know?"

"I understand my love, but we miss you."

"I know. I miss you lot too, loads."

"Where's Harry?" Fizzy's bossy voice cuts over. "Is he around, can he come say hi, Lou? Cause you lot are friends and all now, he'll say hello right?"

"Fizzy," Louis rolls his eyes. "That'd be a gross misuse of my position."

He helpfully neglects to add that that he has no idea where Harry is, and even if he did, he wouldn't approach him with a ten foot pole. Not in the mood Harry's bound to be in.

"What, having him say hi is an abuse of power?" Fizzy demands. "I think you're making it up."

"Half of everything is an abuse of power here," Louis sighs, crossing his legs as he scoots back in his chair. "Besides, he's busy. He's got loads to do every day." That's semi truthful. "I'm your brother, don't you want to talk to me, anyways?"

"Alright then," Fizzy relents, looking somewhat annoyed. "Talk to us then."

"Where's Lottie? And Daisy?"

"Daisy's here," Louis's mum chimes in. "She's just on the floor, say hi, Dais."

"Hi Lou!" Daisy's soft voice sings from out of frame, making Louis smile.

"Hi, sunshine, how are you?"

"I'm building blocks," she tells him, as if that's an adequate answer.

"Right, that's fun, yeah? And Lottie?"

"Hiding in her room," Fizzy lowers her voice conspiratorially. "We think she has a secret boyfriend."

"Shh, let Lottie tell her own news if she wants to," Jay chides with a little smack to Fizzy's arm.

"Like she ever would, Mum. She's always sneaking around with everything…"

Fizzy's voice fades out when Louis gets distracted by rapid footsteps in the hall, and abruptly someone is tapping on his door.

"Hold on," Louis waves at his family onscreen to pause. "Someone's here."

"Is it Harry?" Fizzy sits upright instantly.

"It's not- no, just hold on a minute," Louis tilts his chair back to peer at the door as it pushes open, Niall's blonde head appearing.

"Hi, uhm, is Harry in here?"

"Harry?" Louis repeats, and through his headphones he can hear Fizzy's voice kick up again, demanding to see Harry. "No, mate, why would he be?"

Niall shrugs, hands in his pocket as he hovers awkwardly at the door, clearly not wanting to disrupt Louis's call.

"Dunno. Liam wanted me to ask, he's stressed out."

"Stressed out why?" Louis has half a mind to cover the mic picking up sound on his end. The last thing he wants to do is ruin his family's - mainly Fizzy's - dream of perfect Los Angeles and perfect Harry Styles.

"Can't find Harry anywhere in the house. He's getting a little antsy about it, he likes to know where everyone is."

"Well shit," Louis groans under his breath.

"Lou? Is everything okay?" His mum's voice is quiet, concerned, and Louis slaps a smile back on his face.

"Yeah, it's good. I have to run real quick, I'll call you back, yeah?"

"Of course, poppet," Jay agrees, though still looking suspiciously concerned.

"Bye, love you loads, talk soon," Louis hardly waits to hear their returned farewells before ending the call and taking his headphones off.

"Sorry," Niall murmurs. "I wasn't trying to interrupt your video chat thing."

"It's fine," Louis says. "It's just, um, my little sister really has this thing for Harry, she's damn convinced he's a magical creature. Don't wanna shatter that, you know?"

"Welcome to our life," Niall groans. "Keeping the fantasy alive, all day every day."

"Harry going missing doesn't really fit in with that image for Fizzy, I didn't want her to hear anything."

"Yeah, I get it. C'mon, come help raid the house for him so we can all make it to filming this week and restore the magic," Niall grins and Louis shakes his head, but follows him out of the room in spite of himself.

Liam’s sitting on the arm of the couch when they get downstairs, phone held to his ear, looking annoyed. After a few seconds, he tosses it down on a cushion next to him. “Didn’t answer. I’ve called four different numbers he might be using, and he answered none of them.”

Next to Louis, Niall chews his lip thoughtfully. “Did you check in the gardens?”

“He’s not on the property, Ni,” Liam massages his temple, probably trying to ward off a headache.

“Liam, darling,” Zayn is perched on the coffee table with a frown. “You shouldn’t worry about it too much, you know Harry does this all the time.”

“Doesn’t mean I like it. You know, if your teams caught wind that he regularly just off and goes missing, it could cost me my job.”

“Harry would never let that happen,” Zayn says softly. “He’d speak on your behalf, make sure it was known that you didn’t lose him, he’s purposely being evasive.”

“Oh, that’s loads better, why didn’t I think of that?” Liam laughs derisively. “I barely got this job in the first place, I was the least qualified person to do it, what makes you think they wouldn’t take it away in an instant?"

There’s a heavy silence, before Niall clears his throat. “Don’t be a prat, Liam. We’d never let you go, you’re the best we’ll ever have.”

“Thanks, Niall,” Liam says in a low voice, sinking back into the couch defeatedly.

“There’s nothing we can do right now, okay?” Zayn gets up from his seat on the table and goes to join Liam on the couch, petting the older boy’s hair fondly. “Harry always comes home. He only leaves when he needs to. This is his way of saying he has to have a break.”

Louis’s heart sinks at Zayn’s words. Harry’s such a little prick, but Louis gets the feeling more and more that he does it on purpose to hide the fact that he’s so fragile all the time. Everything seems to be on his shoulders. He’s the lead in the show, he’s the charming one, the witty one, the ringleader. And when the cameras shut off, he looks...like nothing. He looks empty. Louis saw it the first day he watched them film, and he’s kept seeing it ever since. That kid looks so fucking close to breaking half the time, Louis can’t even be mad at him for leaving right now. He hopes faintly that Harry’s somewhere safe right now, which is stupid once he thinks about it. Louis has too many younger siblings, it gave him an uncontrollable paternal instinct. Harry’s not someone he cares about, he’s just young enough that Louis feels compelled to worry about him.

But he’s also a rich little sociopath, Louis hardly has the bandwidth to add Harry to his list of things to worry about. Somehow, he needs to get it into his head that nobody here is his problem to worry about.

-

They end up watching a movie after that, clearly having made the silent unanimous decision to abandon the rest of the day. Some things can’t be salvaged.

They make it through the first and second Mission Impossible films without break, but as the credits roll and Niall fumbles with the remote to queue up the next one Zayn gets to his feet, excusing himself with murmurs of wanting to get some fresh air. Liam follows hardly two minutes later, informing them regretfully that he still has a list of things to get done before dinner.

Louis makes it maybe halfway through the third movie with Niall before realizing he hasn’t absorbed a single word of dialogue. Two action movies might be as much as his brain can process in such a short timespan. He casts a glance at Niall, but the blonde seems fully enraptured still. Louis won’t ruin his fun by asking him to change it.

“Hey, I’m gonna go video call my family again, since I wasn’t able to earlier,” Louis clambers to his feet. “Be back in a bit, yeah?” Niall gives him a vague thumbs up, not tearing his eyes from the screen and nods. Louis takes this as his que to leave, and ambles out of the room into the kitchen, where he spends about ten minutes sat at the counter trying to call Lottie and waiting for her to pick up before realizing it’s past 1am in Doncaster, and everyone will have been long asleep by now.

Sighing in defeat, Louis slides off his stool. He could always go take a boredom nap, he supposes. But then he won’t be able to fall asleep tonight. And he doesn’t want to miss dinner anyways. Louis wonders where Zayn is. He told them he was going outside, didn’t he? Maybe Zayn’ll be up for a smoke.

Louis makes a beeline out of the kitchen and around to the door leading out back, but stops suddenly in his tracks, pausing by the adjacent hallway lined with closed doors. He’s sure he heard something odd. He waits a few seconds, with quiet, shallow breaths to keep his hearing as unfettered as possible. After hardly a moment, a thud and a soft groan can be heard, muffled, but present. Louis has a sinking, ominous feeling that can’t be anything good. Liam’s voice is deeper than that, Zayn’s outside, and Niall couldn’t have circled around from the living room and gotten into this hall without Louis seeing him, so who’s in that room making almost pained noises?

If he was smarter, he’d grab Niall or someone, instead of approaching a strange sound alone, but intelligence isn’t really what Louis prides himself on. Cockiness and braver, more like. He makes the split second decision to follow the source of the noise, tracing it within moments to the conservatory room Zayn uses halfway for plants and halfway as a studio for his painting. Whoever or whatever is in there, it’s probably better to get it over with.

Louis turns the handle quickly and shoves the door open, fully ready to throw punches if he must, but instead all he’s met with is...oh god. Oh no. Louis has made a grave mistake.

Zayn’s sat haphazardly on the edge of the table to the side of the room, arms tangled around Liam, with his eyes squeezed shut, and even if he wasn’t emitting gentle noises of satisfaction it would still be so so obvious that they’re screwing on the reading table right now.

“Jesus, oh my god,” Louis chokes out. “I am so sorry, I-”

Zayn looks up, eyes widening when he sees Louis. “Shit, Liam, no no, Liam,” he drags his fingers through the older boy’s hair in broken desperation. “It’s Louis, it’s-” Zayn breaks off prematurely, sounding so pitifully breathless that Louis suddenly feels even guiltier.

“I’m so sorry, I was just, I thought - oh my god, I’m leaving, I’m sorry,” Louis lifts his eyes to the ceiling, purposely looking anywhere but the two of them and backs out of the room, slamming the door firmly. He’s hardly aware of where he’s walking, just that he needs to go far, quickly.

Zayn and Liam. Zayn and Liam? Retrospectively, Louis always did think they were kind of horny for each other but jesus. He may not recover from this. How is he ever supposed to look either of them in the eye ever again? He should just leave. Pack his bags and get a taxi out of here before he even has to catch another glimpse of either of them. Return to Doncaster, pretend none of this ever happened, and become a school teacher or something far, far away from this, so he never has to come to terms with the fact that he’s pretty sure we just witnessed a Disney star orgasm.

Louis is so distracted, he doesn’t have the foresight to look up and watch where he’s going before slamming directly into someone. He lets out an unbecoming cry of shock - his nerves are frayed, he’s not doing his best right now - and stumbles back.

“Whoa whoa, Jesus, slow down,” Niall reaches out to grab Louis’s elbow, pulling him back before he can fall. “What’s going on, you look like you’re on the verge of collapse.”

“I...just now, just now I saw Zayn and Liam screwing each other in the conservatory,” Louis says faintly, and the mild worry slides from Niall’s face almost instantly switching to an amused grin.

“Ah yes, a rite of passage in this household?”

“A what?”

“Louis, please,” Niall rolls his eyes. “Liam and Zayn have been married since like day one.”

“T-they’re _married_?” Louis stammers. “But Zayn’s only-”

“Not married married,” Niall corrects quickly, smirking. “But they’re that couple that’s been way too happy for way too long and you just look at them and say ‘don’t you get bored of being so grossly domestic?’”

“Zayn and Liam are together? I thought it was a hookup, I mean, they were in the conservatory!” Louis protests. There’s no way Zayn and Liam have been together for a month and he didn’t pick up on it. Louis would never be that oblivious.

“That’s because they’ve had it _everywhere_ , Lou. Come to think of it, that’s probably why they don’t get bored.”

Louis runs his fingers through his hair, still spinning from not only seeing them, but now this new revelation to take in. “Are they going to go off on me now for not knocking? I should have knocked. How am I ever supposed to look them in the eye ever again, Niall,” he groans, and Niall just laughs.

“You’re grossly overthinking this. Everyone’s walked in on them before, Louis, seriously. One time Harry and I walked into Zayn giving Liam a blowie in the bathroom at an awards show and then when we had to go onstage to accept, Zayn’s voice was absolutely wrecked and I was like, _Liam, that’s why you don’t have your boyfriend blow you before an awards show!_ I mean, I get if the mood is there blah blah blah, but at least do it the other way around so Zayn’s voice doesn’t-”

“Niall,” Louis interrupts. “I really don’t need that much information. I’m already partially traumatised.”

Niall reaches out, grabbing Louis’s hand and balling it up for a fistbump. “We all are. Welcome to the club of lost children.”

“I want out of the club.”

“You can’t.”

“I want out, Niall.”

“Tough luck, you live here now. The club is your home.”

Louis is trying to rapidly select his next witty reply, when an honest to god dinner bell rings.

“Boys! Your dinner will get cold,” a scolding voice rings from the dining room, and Niall’s face whitens.

“Oh no. That’s our dear cook, she hates it when we don’t show up in a timely manner. Come on, Miranda deserves better.”

Louis has to practically jog after Niall, who’s moving at a pace that suggests his life depends on it. When he slides into the dining room and pulls out a chair, he’s already uttering a heartfelt apology.

“We are so sorry, Miranda, the day just took an unexpected turn, you know how much I hate to be late for food.”

“I know, angel.” Miranda pinches Niall’s cheek and Louis almost laughs trying to decide which one of them looks at the other with more fondness. A full time cook is everything Niall could ever want, and Niall is every cook’s dream.

“Smells amazing,” Niall comments, and Miranda just pats his face.

“Eat, eat, before it goes cold,” she bustles out with her rolling cart and disappears through the wide doorway. Louis helps himself from the dish of lasagna in the middle of the table, and he’s barely begun tucking in when Liam and Zayn sidle into the room, taking their seats quietly.

To say they looked suspicious wouldn’t be a strong enough word. Zayn has visible love bites littering his collar, and his elbow is smudged with what looks like dark green paint. Makes sense considering they were getting it on on the same table that Zayn lays out his paints and brushes. Liam doesn’t look significantly better, although he’s at least paint free.

Liam clears his throat. “Pass the salad, please, Niall.”

Niall, biting his lip and carefully avoiding catching Louis’s eye, picks up the dish and slides it across to Liam, who serves some for himself, and then Zayn. The latter has his eyes raised slightly to the ceiling, refusing unsubtly to make eye contact.

Louis wonders who’ll break first and address the situation. The following two minutes are almost painful enough Louis wishes Harry would be here so there would at least be one more person to break the tie of who just had sex in the conservatory and who didn’t just have sex in the conservatory.

“So Liam,” Niall begins conversationally, leaning back in his chair and popping a cherry tomato in his mouth. “When you said you had a list of things to get done today, I didn’t think you had meant Zayn.”

“ _Niall_ ,” Liam slams his fork down, trying to look stern, but when he sees all of the other boys, even Zayn, are biting their lips to keep from laughing, he just shakes his head. “You’re a disappointment.”

“ _I'm_ a disappointment, Liam Payne?” Niall demands. “Oh now _that’s_ rich of you to say, Mr. _Screwing-your-boyfriend-on-every-available-surface_.”

“That’s a bit of an exaggeration,” Zayn protests mildly.

“No, no it is not.”

“You’re so dramatic, Niall,” Liam frowns, cutting into his lasagna.

“No no no, I am not, I am not dramatic, you just don’t have my perspective, Liam, my bedroom is BETWEEN you and Zayn’s room, and then Harry’s room, do you have any idea how unfortunate that is? Do you have any idea how much sex you guys have combined? You can’t hear him when he brings people home, and he can’t hear you two, but I can hear all of you.”

“Niall honestly-”

“Nope. You’re uninvited from this conversation. I’m having a private discussion with Louis now and being open with my traumas for the first time.”

“Like I said, dramatic.”

“Twat,” Niall whispers, flinging a bit of lettuce at Liam.

“Alright, enough, we’re not having a food fight,” Liam hushes.

“We could,” Niall says challengingly.

“We’re not. Miranda would flay us alive if we did that again. Besides, if you’re done prying about our sex life, I could tell you I heard from Harry.”

The energy in the room drops considerably, and Niall looks mostly serious for once.

“Yeah? What’d he say?”

“Just what we thought. He’s going to be gone for a couple days, but he’s fine...as if that’s reassuring at all,” Liam finishes with a grumble.

"That's more or less the best you'll get from him," Zayn says, reaching over and taking Liam's hand reassuringly. And yeah, Louis isn't going to get used to the fact that they're an actual couple anytime soon. Not at all.

"Did he say when he'll be back?"

"I wish. All he said was 'a few days' so that's a few days worth of calls I'll have to make to excuse his absence."

"It's gonna be fine, Li."

Yeah," Niall plops another serving of pasta onto his plate. "Haven't you noticed that whatever happens in our weird ass lives, we always still end up alive on the other side? We got this, bro. Just hanging in there till we hit the other side."

-

After dinner Louis excuses himself before anyone else, going straight out to the west balcony. The sun is sinking low in the hills, lighting up the infamous Hollywood sign in an orange glow. Whenever he comes out here, Louis has to pinch himself. There’s something entirely surreal about seeing that sign in half the media he’s consumed for his whole life, and now, being able to stand in all of its glory.

“Louis,” Zayn’s voice makes Louis start, and he glances over his shoulder at the younger boy stepping onto the porch to join him.

“Hi,” Louis replies. He’s determined not to be awkward about the conservatory debacle.

“Sorry about earlier,” Zayn says, a smile ghosting his lips. “I really did think I had locked the door.”

“No no, it’s fine, it’s…” Louis trails off, gripping the cool metal of the balcony rail. “I just didn’t know you guys were together, so that was a surprise. I mean, it was all a surprise, I definitely wasn’t expecting any of that.” God Louis can’t ever get out a normal sentence when he feels awkward, there’s always about thirty extra words tacked on at the end for absolutely no reason.

Zayn sighs, walking over and leaning on the rail with Louis. “You’re not oblivious, if that’s what you’re thinking. We actually were trying to keep it...I don’t know. Not under wraps, but, we have to be careful with who knows what. We would have told you, you know,” Zayn turns to Louis, looking sincere. “But, that’s definitely not the ideal way for you to find out, is it?”

Louis can’t help but smile. He’ll probably laugh about it in the future, because if he’s being honest, it was a little funny, but for now it still feels like a delicate topic. There’s too much he doesn’t know. “Are the two of you...are you not supposed to date?”

Zayn shifts, cocking his head and gazing out into the setting sun. “It’s complicated.”

“Isn’t everything?” Louis questions. “I’m listening.”

The dark haired boy leans into the railing, inhaling deeply. “Liam’s mum works for our management team, that’s how he got the job. He’s known us since we started the show a few years ago, because he interned on the set. Was going to go to film school and all of that. I had just turned fifteen, Liam was seventeen, and at the time I was...kind of having a rough go of it." Zayn pauses, shaking his head. "No, I was fucking sinking and drowning Louis, I was way too young, I had no idea what I was doing, and was somehow the co-lead on a well publicized show, thousands of miles away from where I grew up. I needed someone, he was older, calmer, smarter than I’ll ever be, and he cared. He cared a lot, not about what I was doing and where I was going, just about me, and I’d never had that before.”

Zayn bites his lip, inhaling shakily. “Our old handler quit suddenly about a year later. They needed to fill the position quickly and Liam was eligible, just barely. His mom pulled some strings and got him in. And I was...I was so mad, I didn’t want him to take the job because he was supposed to be heading to college in just a few weeks. He’d been waiting for that his whole life, you know? He always knew he wanted to go to film school. I didn’t want him to do it for me. I mean, he did it for all of us, because he always did care for Niall and Harry, but I know when it comes down to it, he made that choice so he could take care of me. It took me a minute to come around and accept that he did it because he just proper loved me and wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Louis always liked Liam, but he hadn’t realized till this turn of events that the guy was bordering on saintly. He’s not sure if he would give up his career, should he be faced with a decision like that. It’s fully selfless, Louis thinks.

Zayn shakes his head, like he’s clearing away a fog. “Anyways, um, nobody knew we were dating for awhile, except Haz and Niall. We bought this house, and moved in, and things were mostly fine, for us at least, until Liam’s mum caught wind about us. She had a fit, wanted us to end things, or for Liam to quit. She told Liam he was ruining my chances at a successful career, and he started to believe it. He told me that he wanted to leave, not because she pressured him into it, but because she had a point. If it came to the public light that I was gay, it could screw everything up for me. I told Liam that if that was his reason for leaving, I’d quit the show as soon as he walked away. The show means fuckall, my job meant fuckall if it came to losing him, you know?”

“Yeah,” Louis says softly. Truth be told, Louis doesn’t think he’s ever been in love, so if he’s being honest, he doesn’t know what Zayn means. But this feels like the kind of moment where you listen and agree instead of chiming in.

“And he stayed, obviously. I needed him, and the other two needed him. He’s our family, we’ll always be a family. But I know he still worries too much. About his mother, about someone finding out about us, about being responsible for fucking up my future, and that’s just to start, he still has the other two to keep track of. I mean, Niall is...Niall’s Niall, like, I’m pretty sure he’ll always be fine, but Harry’s a disaster sometimes, and all of it falls back on Liam. So yeah. We can’t really broadcast our relationship. Maybe one day. I hope one day.”

“Jesus,” Louis breathes. “That’s a lot.”

“Honestly?” Zayn turns to face him. “It’s the one thing in my life that actually isn’t a problem. I love Liam, and I’m glad that we’re safe and can continue being together every day. And if that’s all we ever get, that’s okay too.”

Louis bumps his shoulder against Zayn's. "You're a good person, Z. I'm glad you guys have each other."

"Thanks, Louis," Zayn's voice sounds a little thick. "That means a lot."

"Any day, lad." The moment stretches, uninterrupted and important, before Zayn coughs, swiping at his eyes quickly.

"Anyways, I should probably go, I need to um, clean up. The conservatory." The delicateness of the moment is broken after that, and Louis laughs.

"That part, you could have kept to yourself." "Whatever," Zayn grins in spite of himself. "At least we are cleaning it." "Well I'd hope so!" The younger boy shakes his head, looping an arm around Louis's shoulders.

"C'mon, let's go inside."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello!!! I'm back after a ridiculously long absence, buT i did continue writing this the whole time so I have plenty of updates coming. The the people who have been asking about updates: I'm SORRY it took me this long to post another chapter, but this year really has done a number on me :') 
> 
> hopefully I'll remember to post regularly and if not, just like, comment and remind me.
> 
> Hope everyone is doing well <3


	14. Chapter 14

Days off, Louis thinks, are things that filthy rich teenagers with no parents shouldn’t have.

They get bored. They get restless. They get high on the basement floor listening to The 1975. Well, actually, that’s Louis. He’s the only one on the floor right now. But he’s only high off the weed Zayn provided. He wouldn’t be here without him.

The first day Harry was gone was fine. They all stayed in and lazed around. Swam half the day. Liam cornered Louis and apologized to him profusely for the conservatory incident, which was quickly forgiven. Niall’s already laughing about it. Although, Louis supposes he was laughing about it from the start. The second day was worse. Everyone is bored. They get stir crazy fast. Louis is sure it’s because, at their age, they should be out causing trouble and experimenting with adolescence, not sitting in their mansion. Day three, Liam left to go to their team’s headquarters and excuse Harry’s absence. As soon as he left, Zayn’s resolve seemed to crumble and he dragged Niall and Louis to the basement, shut the doors so the haze would stay in and broke out a joint. Well, numerous joints. And a bong. They’re thoroughly enjoying life, that’s all Louis can say.

The floor beneath him is warm. It almost seems to give under the pressure of his body, flexing slightly when he moves. He knows that’s probably not entirely accurate, it’s just his warped perspective, but it feels strange anyways. He hasn’t been this wasted in a long time. It’s good. He feels good.

“Do you think Liam’s gonna be pissed when he gets back?” Niall murmurs. He’s sitting on the back of the couch and has been trying unsuccessfully to produce smoke rings for the past ten minutes. Zayn, standing in the middle of the floor and swaying lightly to the song, turns to Niall, shrugging.

“Probably, and if he is I’ll just have to drag him off and...take his mind off of it,” he makes an obscene up-and-down gesture with his partially closed fist and Niall groans in disgust.

“Ew Zayn.”

Zayn laughs, stumbling down into a sitting position on the floor next to Louis. “Please, you’d get in on it if you could.”

“I’m not opposed to experimenting with men,” Niall narrows his eyes. “But it definitely wouldn’t be with you two, Liam’s like our fucking father.”

“Your loss,” Zayn shrugs, hopping up again and ambling towards the mini fridge in the corner. “Do we have food down here? I’m so fucking hungry all the time.”

“Maybe you’re pregnant,” Louis jokes, rubbing his eyes. The lights on the ceiling are a little too bright, he wonders if they dim down at all.

“I wish,” Zayn murmurs. “Maybe if I was pregnant I’d get written out of our fucking TV show already.”

“You know, you and Harry are awful,” Niall says matter of factly. “Like, so many people would give anything to star in a Disney show and you two complain every time you actually have to show up on set. Why bother being a child star if you don’t want to fucking shine.”

“We all make mistakes, Nialler,” Zayn trips over Louis's arm crossing the room to lean against the blonde boy. “Some people accidentally put their darks and whites in the wash together. I signed a three year contract with Disney Studios.”

“But we’re both worth millions,” Niall giggles, fistbumping his companion. “If nothing else, do it for the money.”

“You’re both terrible,” Louis informs them, reaching for the spliff Zayn’s holding between his fingers. “Awful people.”

“And yet, you’re in the same basement, smoking the same weed.”

Louis can’t say anything to dispute that, so he shrugs instead, taking a drag and exhaling the smoke slowly, letting himself sink back into the floor.

It’s the pounding on the door that jerks him out of his dreamlike haze a few moments later and, once again, Zayn trips over him in his haste to get to the door. To no one’s surprise, it’s only Liam waiting on the other side.

“Why’d you all lock the- oh my god, it reeks in here,” the older boy wrinkles his nose in distaste.

“Just a bit of...rock ‘n roll,” Zayn slurs, sliding his arms around Liam’s neck. “The good things in life.” He presses a kiss to Liam’s cheek and tugs on his shirt needily. “Carry me.”

Liam looks like he’s torn between being disapproving about the sight before him, or relenting and allowing it to happen. He must decide to give in, because he hoists the shorter boy up and carries him to the pool table, setting him on the edge and standing between his legs. Zayn smiles at him with unfocused eyes, looking disgustingly enamored while combing his fingers through Liam’s short hair. Louis almost wants to laugh. Zayn, of all people, he wouldn’t have pegged as one to melt around their significant other. If he wasn’t high out of his mind, he probably would have laughed at him for it. Not even three minutes ago he was telling Louis off for saying that he and Niall are terrible, and now he’s whispering to be picked up and looking at Liam like he’s the last human being on earth. Unbelievable.

Zayn rests his forehead on Liam’. “How was...the offices?” His wording may need a little work, but Louis does have to give him credit for the state he’s in to at least try to be interested in Liam’s day.

“Fine,” Liam leans away, turning around so he’s facing the other boys and leaning back against Zayn instead. “Everyone is stressed out over there.”

“Aren’t they always?” Niall grumbles. “Bunch of anxious buffoons.”

“Extremely so, now. Harry’s trying everyone’s patience. This was a terrible time for him to disappear on us, frankly.”

“Issa guilt tactic,” Zayn murmurs, rubbing his face on Liam’s shoulder. “They never ever ever...wanna let us...be independent,” he finishes choppily, seeming to lose sight of the end of his sentence.

“Harry’s too young to to be independent.”

“Mentally independent,” Zayn amends. “If it’s something we want, we can’t have it because they can’t bear the thought of us becoming sentient people instead of good little puppets.” Zayn giggles, covering his face. “I hate it here.”

Louis isn’t sure if the effects are wearing off already, but the fogginess in his brain seems to ebb away, replacing hazy bliss with persistent anxiety in the back of his head. He tries not to put too much weight to it, but the pattern that seems to emerge with Zayn is offhandedly concerning. He’s always fine until you get him really wasted on something, and it’s then that he teeters on the edge of almost manic hatred for his life.

“You need to go to bed,” Liam says, brushing Zayn’s hair out of his eyes.

“It’s like, nine o’clock,” Niall mumbles, slipping off the back of the couch and landing on the cushions with a groan. “Not even fully dark out yet.”

“‘N I’m wide awake,” Zayn grins, biting the tip of his tongue as his eyes roll back into his head and flutter shut. “Could stay up for ages.”

“Of course you could,” Liam agrees, picking the younger one up again and stepping carefully around Louis on the way to the door. “We’re going to bed. Niall, for god’s sake, make sure you stub that out, and turn on the fucking fan before you leave, I’m getting lung cancer just standing here.”

“You got it, boss,” Niall waves him off, blowing a sarcastic kiss and Liam turns his back to them and leaves the room. “Hey Lou, FIFA?”

\---

They play for far too long, stuck in an enrapturing loop of mind numbing games, until Niall quite literally passes out asleep on the couch mid match. Louis considers crashing on the loveseat pushed against the other wall, but he’s wide awake still, and hungry. The digital clock on the wall says it’s 2:13am. A little late for a midnight snack, but the house is so big, it’s not like anyone would hear him in the kitchen anyways.

Louis slides off the couch, padding across the floor and up the stairs. He’s pretty sure his socks muffle the sound of his steps. Good, helpful socks.

The upstairs level is quiet, abandoned for the night, and bathed in darkness. Louis flips on the fixture above the kitchen island, giving him only enough light to see the fridge and surrounding counters. He’s perusing the place for a suitable snack when it occurs to him that he really has to pee. Louis doesn’t even know where the bathrooms downstairs are. He’s got an entire en suite in his bedroom, why would he even venture outside of that? Annoyed at his own bodily functions for giving him a full bladder in this time of simply wanting food, Louis huffs and takes the hall leading out of the west side of the kitchen.

There are three doors with lights on here. Likely Liam just couldn’t be bothered turning them off before going upstairs. Or he already had his hands full of Zayn. That’s equally plausible. Louis trips over the corner of a rug while heading for the first door, cussing under his breath. No house needs this many fucking decorational rugs scattered around. Somebody’s going to break their neck one day.

Preoccupied by his rug rage, Louis pushes the door in front of him open sharply, and knocks back into the doorframe in surprise when he firmly hits something solid blocking him.

“Ow, shit,” a voice hisses, and the sound of several small objects falling on the floor can be heard. The door swings open and Harry steps around it, covering his left eye with the back of his hand. “You just made me put fucking Neosporin in my eye.”

“I didn’t know you were here,” Louis whispers defensively, taking an instinctive step back when he sees Harry. He looks awful. Washed out and sick. His lip is still split from when his psychotic ex threw a book at him, but now he’s further battered with a black eye and a cut on his chin that looks a day or two old.

“It’s my fucking house,” Harry says dryly. “I live here.”

“Well, it’s not as if you weren’t just gone for days. What happened to you?”

Harry doesn’t move, but his demeanor seems to grow colder. “Nothing happened.”

“You look like you got mauled by a bear.”

“We don’t have bears in Los Angeles,” Harry looks annoyed, trying to push the door shut. Louis steps around it and closes himself inside the bathroom with the other boy. Harry huffs, apparently resigning himself to the fact that Louis is in there with him. He turns back to the mirror above the sink, lowering the hand covering his left eye. There’s a thin, swollen scratch underneath, not helped by the fact that Harry’s eye is bloodshot and watering profusely. That was probably the neosporin though.

“Why do you have a first aid kid if nothing happened?” Louis questions, nodding at the kit laid out on the edge of the sink. He knows that his very presence is thoroughly annoying Harry, but he can’t be bothered to care much.

“Fuck off, Lewis, it’s 2am, why are you even awake?”

“It’s Louis,” Louis corrects, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning against the wall.

“I don’t care.” Harry picks up the tiny bottle of antibiotic ointment and brings it to his face, trying to angle it to the abrasion by his eye carefully, but his hands shake so bad he’s just fumbling with it.

Louis truly dislikes this kid on a fundamental level. Harry’s entire personality is aggravating, but standing here in front of this mirror struggling to clean out his wounds reminds Louis of when his sisters get hurt doing something they know they’re not supposed to and he’ll find them later with sloppily applied bandaids and splinters they couldn’t get out but were too stubborn to ask for his help with.

“Do you want me to do it?” Louis offers.

Harry glares at him in the mirror. “No. Go away.”

“You’re gonna put neosporin in your eye again if you keep it up.”

“Please, like you won’t,” Harry snaps back.

Louis straightens up, going over to him swiftly and snatching the bottle out of his hand. “I have four younger siblings to take care of, you think I haven’t done this a hundred times over?” He drags Harry over to the edge of the bathtub and shoves him down on it. “Not all of us grew up in a mansion in Hollywood Hills.”

Harry shuts his eyes, letting Louis tilt his head back carefully. “I didn’t grow up in a mansion in Hollywood Hills either.” It’s the most Louis has ever willingly heard him say about his childhood. He wants to press further, but it probably won’t get him anywhere.

Louis uses his left hand to hold Harry’s face steady while he drips ointment onto the cut carefully. Harry’s skin is surprisingly warm to the touch. Louis supposes he got so used to referring to Harry as a lifeless doll in his head, that he disassociated from the fact that he’s really a living, breathing human underneath his shitty attitude and completely uninviting personality. Louis reaches back and grabs a bandaid from the counter, peeling off the wrapping and placing it over the abrasion gingerly. Harry’s hand flinches upwards, curling around Louis’s wrist and something in Louis softens at the motion. Maybe it’s how Harry’s fingers cling to him, or how small he looks sitting here, or maybe it’s just because it’s 2am and Louis should be asleep but instead he’s standing in between Harry’s legs carefully cleaning him up from what looks like having been bludgeoned across the face several times.

“There, you’re done,” Louis murmurs, stepping back and regretfully losing the warm weight of Harry’s hand on his wrist. “I told you I could do it.”

“Good for you,” his words are passive aggressive, but his tone is softer than usual. Harry looks down at his lap, twisting one of his many rings almost anxiously. The silence between them isn’t awkward, but it’s too tense to feel comfortable. 

“I’m sorry for what I said about your parents the other day.” Louis doesn’t know where the words came from. He certainly didn’t permit them to leave his mouth

Harry looks up at him, creasing his eyebrows. “You already apologized for that.”

“Yeah, well, it didn’t seem like you had listened, so I just wanted to reiterate that I am. Sorry. That I’m sorry.”

“I did listen the first time,” Harry stands up, and once again, Louis is made small in comparison, which he finds annoying. “Give it up now.”

“I was just trying to be nice,” Louis crosses his arms, defensive now. “Next time, I don’t have to apologize at all.”

“Wouldn’t make any difference to me,” Harry says, a hint of malice dripping from his voice. He gathers up the first aid kit and shoves it in the cupboard under the sink. “I’m going to bed now, if you’re done playing hero.”

“I wasn’t-” Louis begins hotly, but Harry cuts him off with a dismissive wave.

“Goodnight, Lewis.”

He flips the light off, leaving Louis standing in the dark, fuming. A perfect example of why Louis doesn’t try to be nice to him. Harry’s so entitled it doesn’t even make a difference, not when everyone else is catering to his every need. Every time Louis thinks maybe,  _ maybe _ there’s a fleeting moment where he feels for Harry’s sad, rich boy life, Harry manages to dash it in an instant. 

The next time he finds Harry nursing his injuries at 2am, he’s grabbing the neosporin and emptying it in his obnoxiously green eyes. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TWO updates in two days, would you believe it??? Also yay for the actual larry interaction in this larry fic, enjoy that content <3


	15. Chapter 15

“Earth to Louis.”

Louis looks up, shaken out of whatever far away place his thoughts were floating to and turns to Niall, whose head is cocked in concern. 

“Yes? Sorry, I was thinking.”

“I’d just asked if you miss your family much while you’re here.”

“Oh,” Louis sinks back into the pool donut he’s floating lazily in. He must have been tuned out of the conversation for a while, he hadn’t even realized they were talking about family. “Yeah, loads. I’ve never been away from them for longer than grade school summer camps, so it was kind of hard to leave. I facetime them a lot, but it’s not the same. They’re really glad I’m here though, they were really excited for me,” Louis adds, not wanting to bring a fog of gloom to the discussion. “Um, what about you?” he glances at Niall. “You guys are away from your families too, do they come to visit you lot often?”

The blond perks up, rolling off of his floatie and sliding into the water. “Yeah, my mum and dad visit a couple times a year, they’re always worried I’m taking proper care of myself out here. I think mostly mum visits to bring me food because she has this sneaking suspicion I’m not well fed. I completely am, but why would I turn down more food?”

“That’s the spirit,” Louis laughs. He turns to Zayn, who’s stretched out on the edge of the pool lazily, using Harry’s torso as a pillow while the latter dangles his feet in the water. Zayn always seems to linger close to Harry, but they’ve been joined at the hip since this morning when everyone woke up to find Harry had blessedly returned. Of course, nobody said a word about the fact that Harry looks like he’s been hit with a car a couple times, but Louis honestly doesn’t know what he expected. Perhaps that’s just normal for Harry  
“What about you, Z? Do you see your family a lot?”

Zayn rolls onto his side to look at Louis. “No,” he says simply. “I knew I was giving them up when I came here though.”

“Issues with traveling out of country?” Louis presses, curious. 

Zayn gives a short, humorless laugh. “More like they didn’t want anything to do with a homosexual bastard son whose face brings shame to the family whenever it graces the big screens.”

Louis is quiet. There are a lot of things in his life he wishes he could change, but at least when he came out to his mum, the only reason she cried was because she was sad Louis even worried about telling her. “I’m really sorry,” he tells Zayn softly.

“It’s okay, Lou, seriously. I’d rather be here with this lot than with them. I never got on with my parents growing up, I was always bound to take flight and not come back, it was the natural progression of things.”

“So you just...never go home to England?” The thought of it makes Louis sad. He can’t imagine leaving his family and never returning. He can’t even begin to fathom where he’d go from there, alone in a foriegn country being that young.

“I am home,” Zayn replies. “This is my home, this is my family.”

Niall sighs loudly from the middle of the pool. “You’re so cheesy it’s disgusting, Malik.”

“Shut up Niall, or I’ll cut you from my will.”

"You wouldn't dare."

"Don't test me-"

The two of them begin to squabble, and Louis let's it fade into the background, tuning them out. He's become acutely aware that Harry hasn't offered a word to the conversation, and it's making him feel mildly guilty. 

Of course, it's also entirely possible that the younger boy has just fallen asleep in the shade next to Zayn. It was past 2:30 last night by the time Louis finally went up to bed, and even after that, Harry didn't come upstairs to his respective room until long past 3:00. Not that Louis stayed up waiting to hear him come upstairs, he just couldn't fall asleep. 

Maybe this afternoon is just finding Harry sorely sleep deprived. 

"If you die? If?" Niall is standing at the edge of the pool, still quarrelling with Zayn. 

"Not all of us are flaky little Irishmen, Niall," Zayn says with an air of superiority. "if anyone lived forever it'd definitely be me, not you."

The blond reaches over, evidently fed up with Zayn's bullshit and grabs a fistful of his shirt, tugging sharply and sending him tumbling into the water with an unbecoming shriek. Louis pushes off of the side of the pool with his foot to make himself float away from their roughhousing. He supposes he could always join, but then that would throw off the balance.

Niall’s holding Zayn underwater while the older boy tries vigorously to kick him in the crotch when Liam comes around the corner into the pool patio, barefoot, shirtless and holding an ipad. He frowns when he sees the boys attempting to drown each other. 

“Niall, stop trying to kill him,” he reprimands, weary more than upset.

“But I’ve not yet finished yet!” Niall protests. “He’s nearly passed out now, I’m close - fuck.” Niall breaks off, releasing Zayn as if he’d been burned. The dark haired boy emerges from the water, spluttering and laughing at Niall, who’s doubled over. 

“Kicked me in the dick, you bastard-”

Zayn darts nimbly out of reach of Niall’s revenge punch and climbs out of the pool, looking pleased to see Liam’s joined them, now sitting on one of the lawn chairs lined up along the row of well groomed palm trees.

“Liam,” he says, sounding delighted. Louis wonders what it’s like to be so smitten that just seeing somebody can make your face light up like that. “I’ve hardly seen you all day.” He sinks down, sopping wet on Liam’s chair beside him. Contrary to looking upset about it, Liam loops his arm around Zayn’s shoulders and kisses his forehead. 

“I’ve had work to get caught up on,” he says apologetically.

“We never see you, darling.”

“I think we see you plenty,” Niall says, sticking his tongue out and splashing water at the both of them. Although it misses them completely, Liam still raises his eyebrows in warning. 

“Niall, if you ruin my iPad I’ll get in the pool and drown you.”

“You’re an evil evil man, Lima Bean.”

“Don’t call me that,” Liam sounds mildly annoyed and Louis can tell that this is a recurring interaction between them. 

“Sure thing, Lima,” Niall’s eyes glimmer with a diabolical light, but Liam apparently chooses to rise above because all he does is clear his throat and consult his iPad.

“Anyways, it’s a good thing you’re all here because we need to um, assemble and discuss.”

“A family meeting,” Niall says wisely, abandoning attempts to annoy the older boy and hopping into a pool donut instead. 

“Yeah, I’m calling a family meeting,” Liam agrees, clapping his hands in gesture of summoning the others.

“Does Louis get to stay for it?” Harry’s voice drifts cooly from where he’s laying with his hands tucked behind his head. 

"Course he does, he's here isn't he?"

"Bit early for him to be part of the family, no?"

Louis has to bite his tongue to avoid a cutting response to that. He can tell from Harry's nonchalant tone that he's only saying it to get a rise out of Louis. 

"We like Louis," Niall says mildly, kicking a bit of water at Harry.

"Speak for yourself," Harry says, sitting up. The butterfly inked onto his torso squishes up a bit as he slouches, and Louis can't help but resent that that's what he's focusing on when Harry's so clearly being a prick. 

Liam brings a hand to his forehead, pinching his brow. "Harry, for once, can you sit through a discussion and not try to pick a fight? You don't always have to be problematic."

"Yeah, I suppose I'm just your little problem, aren't I, Liam?" There's a dangerous edge to Harry's voice, Louis's been around long enough to recognize it as the tone he uses before he seems to lose his cool.

"Well, with the path you're headed on-"

"Liam," Zayn cuts him off quietly, rubbing his hand up and down the older boy's arm. "Not now."

Liam huffs, looking out out, but settles for crossing and uncrossing his legs and clearing his throat, looking down at his iPad. "Anyways, I wanted to touch base on the schedule for this month since we've had all of these setbacks."

Louis can almost feel Liam's determination not to glance at Harry on the word setbacks. 

“Despite that, we’re all going to keep our chins up and forge on because we’ve got a busy month ahead of us. We’ve got the People’s Choice Awards on the 17th, which means final fittings for all of you beforehand, and then the next day you all need to go into the studio and listen to the final mixes on the album - Louis, don’t repeat that, top secret,” Liam adds almost automatically.

“You guys are doing an album?” Louis repeats curiously. He can’t exactly imagine Harry - or any of them for that matter - getting in front of a microphone and singing. Niall maybe, but not anything anyone would want to listen to.

“It’s very under wraps at the moment, nobody knows a thing except those directly involved,” Liam says emphatically. “They boys got a record deal last winter and they’ve been working with a team of writers and recording since.”

“The problem is that our contracts with the TV show prevent us from starting other big projects publicly, so we aren’t able to announce things till after filming wraps, so instead of doing some big album build up like you usually would, we’ll have all these disappointed fans moping because we’ve finished filming and the end of the show is nigh, then boom we drop an album and a tour on top of them.” Niall grins like all of the above was his idea personally.

“You’re doing a tour?” As much as he can’t see them all recording an album, he definitely can’t see them hopping onstage and dancing around while singing. Well, again, Niall probably would, but Zayn? Harry?

“Just through North America,” Liam waves his hand flippantly. “But it’s not for you to worry about, you’ll be back in the UK before we hit the road. We still have to wrap shooting this damn documentary too before we can go anywhere.”

“Right,” Louis nods. “Course, it’s just, I always was kind of obsessed with bands and musicians when I was small, so now it’s just strange to be this close in proximity to that whole scene.”

“You should come to a show!” Zayn suggests, brightening. “We’ll fly you out and you can be our guest. Reunion, anyone?”

“Z, my love,” Liam reaches behind him and pulls Zayn around to sit between his thighs, caressing the younger boy's hair to make him complacent. “We can plan our reunion later, yeah? I have a whole list to go through here.”

“Course,” Zayn murmurs, leaning back on Liam. “Sorry, go on.”

Liam clears his throat and continues on about red carpets and last days of filming. Louis’s mind drifts after a moment, and his attention settles (without his consent) on Harry. He's still laying on his back, armed tucked under his head, but his free hand traces the cut under his eyes distractedly. The same cut that Louis carefully applied Neosporin to last night.   
He's not sure if he expected Harry to wake up this morning a changed man towards him after that interaction, but that definitely didn't happen.

Mostly Louis is simply confused at the levels of fucked up the whole situation here is if it's routine for a sixteen year old to return home looking like he was beaten, and no one even questions it. 

Or maybe someone did question it. For all Louis knows, Liam or Zayn or someone has already had a talk with Harry, made sure he's okay, and asked why he looks like he was on the receiving end of a battering ram. Maybe Louis is once again severely overthinking. 

After all, he'll be the first to admit to his rather unfortunate tendency to get involved in things that don't concern him and be, in general, far too nosy. His mum never let him forget that one when he was little. 

Louis needs to step back, really. His priorities are becoming way too skewed here. He came to work, get a massive paycheck, and take off ten times richer than when he started. Now he spends his evenings playing FIFA with Niall and curled on the couch watching films with the others, or putting fucking Neosporin on Harry's eye. For good or for bad, he accidentally made real friends here. Well, not Harry, Harry's still a wild card as far as he's concerned, but the other three? Louis is going to miss them when he leaves, truly, and the thought nags at him. 

Louis left enough people in his past already in eighteen short years of life. That's why he keeps his circle close. He's already fed up with people walking away. He never wanted to be the one to walk away.  
But well, it's not as if he can just stay in Los Angeles forever. 

Louis can't help but wonder if he'll ever look back and wish that sticking to his own business and doing his work was all he'd ever done here.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A short chapter but a chapter nonetheless. I always add these little notes at the end but I never know what to say??? I hope everyone is doing well! If you have a moment to leave a comment that really helps boost this work in the algorithm and reading feedback is like fuel for writers :)   
> Thank youuuuu all for reading <3 <3


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> some notes at the beginning this time because I wanted to give a proper TW that this chapter contains multiple conversations pertaining to sexual abuse. If that's a trigger for you please read with caution. There's nothing graphic but it's mentioned a couple times with mild detail. 
> 
> If you don't want to read the chapter because of this but you want a summary of what you missed, feel free to comment down below and i'll give you the run down. For that reason, anyone who is reading this should probably avoid the comments till you finished the chapter in case of comment spoilers <3

The heat in Californian is unbearable. Louis didn't grow up in a climate that was ever anywhere near this consistently dry and hot. He's sure that if Hollywood showed even half of what it looks like behind the scenes to shoot nine hour days in weather over 100° degrees, far fewer kids would leave home seeking stardom.

Louis doesn't always go with them when they film, usually he takes advantage of the quiet in the house to call his family or sift through that week's photos and forward them to the documentary's project managers, but today Liam decided was as good a day of any to tail the boys around set and capture what that looks like for them. 

Turns out most of what it included was the director calling for them to cut so makeup could rush in and touch up the skin perfecting foundation melting off of the faces of everyone in front of the camera. And, yeah, eventually it became boring to keep taking pictures of that. 

Of course, Louis want allowed to take pictures of Harry until after he'd had a chance to get whirled through the makeup trailer first thing that morning. The bruises he came home with three days ago have faded, but not disappeared. They can still be seen under the skin, translucent purples fading out into sickly yellow.

Louis isn't sure what was worse, the fact that no one at the house questioned Harry over his beaten appearance, or the fact that no one in the makeup department seemed thrown by it. It was business as usual for everyone. 

But isn't it always?

" _ Cut! _ " The director, a harried looking middle aged woman built with one of the tiniest frames Louis has ever seen, motions for the cameras to stop rolling. She looks tired. "Can we call for makeup again please? I don't want to call for an early wrap but the heat and humidity is not working in here...clean them up and we'll try again."

The set comes to life in begrudging shuffles as people behind the camera rifle with script pages to find their entry line to restart the scene and the makeup team ambles over to Harry, Zayn and Niall who are all three looking uncomfortably warm and sweaty. 

Louis seriously can't watch this for the 25th time this afternoon. He leans over, tapping Liam on the shoulder. "Hey, I'm gonna run to the food lot and grab a bite, yeah?"

"Yeah, yeah," Liam nods in agreement, not taking his eyes off the boys on their set. There seems to be an unsaid understanding that Liam never leaves Zayn's side while he films - or, at the very least, Zayn never leaves Liam's line of sight. 

"Right," Louis claps Liam on the shoulder briefly before slipping away between the twisted ropes of cables sneaking across the ground. Usually they shoot on one of the soundstages inside, but they also have an outdoor area roped off for outdoor sets. And what a day to film outside they chose. Definitely wouldn't have been easier to film in a cooled indoor soundstage or anything. Louis walks between the tall stage buildings, mopping the sweat from his brow. The buildings are made of metal, sort of like huge warehouses, which doesn't make the giant lots any cooler, what with all that metal absorbing every bit of heat that hits it. 

Doesn't help that the small area where they have a host of food trucks and beverage stations is almost entirely across the lot, which feels like it's at least a mile long. It's probably not, but in this heat, it might as well be. Louis weaves between costume trailers and prop departments before he finally reaches the food lot and selects and truck to order from. The pass hung around his neck grants him full access to the food trucks without paying, which might be the sweetest perk of the job yet. 

Once his burrito has been passed through the small window to him, Louis retreats to one of the long folding tables set up under canopies for shade and takes a seat. 

A softly built older man with greying hair is sat a table of two over, and while Louis eats his lunch he can't help but feel like the man is more or less watching him. Not outright, but the frequency of the discreet glances he keeps throwing Louis's way is too much to be casual. After ten minutes, at most, the man pushes his chair out, comes around the table, and sits down across from Louis. 

"Hey, you're the Louis boy, right? Harry's personal photographer?"

Louis wipes his mouth, hoping there's not weird sauce smudges anywhere. "Er, yeah, well, I'm with the project team for the docu, but yeah."

"Right," the guy nods. "You a live in photographer? You're staying with them while you're in the states, yeah?"

Louis isn't sure if he's actually allowed to answer that, but the either way this man already seems to know.  _ How _ he knows is the question. 

"Sorry," Louis shakes his head, hoping he comes off as politely confused. "I think I missed your name, are you with the show's production team?"

"Oh man, oh geez," the guy in front of him looks flustered, sticking out a hand to Louis quickly. "Didn't even introduce myself. Name's Dilton, I work in set construction for the show, been here since day one. 

"Right," Louis gives him a smile, hoping it doesn't come off as forced. As nice as Dilton seems, Louis has no idea what he wants. 

Dilton shifts in his seat, looking uncomfortable. "I uh, the reason I came to talk to you is because well, I know you're living with the boys, you know, you're probably spending a decent bit of time with em since you're in their home and I just, uh, I wanted to know if you had any idea why Harry's got all those bruises."

Louis is taken aback by the question enough that, for a moment, all he does is blink in surprise. So there  _ are _ normal humans with normal levels of concern in this godforsaken city. People who notice when  _ children _ show up to work looking beaten up and ask questions. 

"Uh, Mr. Louis?"

Louis snaps back to attention, Dilton's face full of earnest concern swimming in front of him. "Sorry," he apologizes quickly. "And no, I don't know where he got the bruises."

It's not a lie. Louis genuinely doesn't know. He leaves out the part about applying Neosporin because it seems decently irrelevant. 

"He didn't have an accident or... anything?"

Louis prickles. He knows this man probably can only mean well, but if one has concerns, you'd think they'd take them to people a little bit higher up the food chain. The urge to tell Dilton that he doesn't speak to Harry anyways because he's a massive cunt threatens to take over, but Louis decides smearing Harry's name probably goes against gag contracts he signed last month. 

"I really don't know, I'm sorry," he hopes there's an air of finality in his tone. Ideally Dilton will get up and leave Louis to his lunch, but all he does is shift in his seat uncomfortably once more. 

Louis takes a cautious bite of burrito, wondering if the man will say anything, or if he'll simply continue to tap his fingers on the plastic table nervously, looking very much like he has more to share. 

It's Dilton's stifled, anguished sigh that finally pushed Louis to the edge. He wipes over his mouth with a napkin. "Um, is there anything else I can do for you?"

"No, no. I mean yes, no, well I'm not sure. I don't know who's the right person to be telling this too. I shouldn't be saying anything, I could get in big trouble, and he asked me not to, on top of everything…" Dilton trails off, looking distressed. "I just can't say  _ nothin _ , someone else needs ta know," he says gruffly. 

Louis's burrito suddenly feels cold and unappetizing, forming a hard lump in his stomach. "Someone needs to know what?"

Dilton runs a hand through his coarse hair. "It was weeks ago, a month or more. I should have said something sooner, I know. I'm no great man, but I'd never intentionally do wrong, I just didn't know what was right, but I see today that doing nothing is wrong, even if it means I get caught in the crossfire-"

"Just tell me," Louis doesn't mean to bite out the words like he does, but it sufficiently surprises Dilton into refocusing his rambling. 

"I was just going for lunch break when it happened, coming back from B stage way that way, and I really had to use the john, couldn't really afford to wait, see. I was passing some of the trailers reserved for our higher-ups, head writers, directors, the likes. Usually us construction slummers don't hang around the fancy trailers but I really needed the men's room, so I knocked on the door of one. Didn't hear nothing, so I opened up," Dilton combs through his hair again, looking near overwhelmed by his own tale. 

Louis's fingers are clamped around the edge of the table hard enough to make one of his knuckles pop. He doesn't want to know where this story is going if it's enough to make a grown man tremble in broad sunlight. 

"It was the kid, Harry," Dilton says heavily. "And Mr. Delaney, he's one of the two showrunners. They were in there together, but it wasn't um- it wasn't friendly. I didn't see much, I just glimpsed through a gap in the door, see, and it wasn't for long, but he had the boy shoved up against the wall, holding him there even though he was struggling. Delaney was asking him something, I don't know what, but the boy didn't like it, he was about a hair away from tears, shaking his head and all, but Delaney wasn't having that. He was mad,  _ real _ mad about something, and then he was shoving that kid down, forcing him onto his knees and I knew- I knew it was just wrong. I moved the door and made myself known. Scared the living daylights out of them both, I'd say. Delaney was out of his wits, he knew I'd seen whatever was going on, 'specially when I grabbed the boy and pulled him up. He told me if I breathed a word to anyone I'd be blacklisted from every film and TV set in America, I'd never find work again."

Dilton looks down at the table, twisting his fingers anxiously. "I would have said something anyways, it wasn't about the job for me, I just wanted to do what's right, but it was Harry. He came to me after, looking shaken. He looks ill sometimes, I don't know why, but especially so then. He plain begged me not to say anything, said it was a bad moment, that was all, and nothing needed to be done. I didn't know what to do, Mr. Louis. I think if someone has a story, it's theirs to tell. But then he shows up today, looking half beaten, and I can't do it, can't stay quiet no more. It's not right."

Dilton goes quiet, evidently having said his piece. Louis has never felt sicker. 

Sixteen. Sixteen is far too young to be held against a wall, to be forced onto your knees and-

God. It's so fucked up at any age but  _ sixteen _ . 

"I'm sorry," Dilton says softly. "I'm not trying to burden anyone here, I just didn't know what to do."

"No," Louis says, a strangled note in his voice. "Telling someone was right, you should- that's not something you go silent on," he stands up abruptly, clearing his barely touched meal and tossing it into the bin. "Thank you. I should go, I have to- I need to go."

\---

Louis needs to tell Liam. It's the only logical move. He'll know what to do and how to help. That's his  _ job _ . 

It's just, how do you go up to someone and say ' _ hey, you know that kid you're in charge of who's also one of your good friends? Yeah, I'm pretty sure he's being abused by a person in charge' _

Jesus. Louis came here for a temporary job and a hefty paycheck. This is so fucked up, everything here seems out of control. He wants so badly to call his mum and listen to the reassuring sound of her advice, but there's no way he'd be able to explain the situation without violently breaching the privacy contracts he'd signed. 

This is on Louis, only Louis. 

\---

"Liam, hey,  _ Liam _ !" Louis has to physically catch Liam's arm as he brushes past. The whole lot of them have just arrived back at the house and Louis knows that now is his chance. If he doesn't confront someone soon he'll lose his nerve about it, and this isn't something he can afford to chicken out of. 

"Can we talk for a second?"

The smile fades from Liam's face, going serious when he sees that Louis isn't joking around. "Of course, what's going on?"

As soon as he gets the sentence out, Zayn appears behind Liam in the doorway and wraps his arms around the older boy's midsection. 

"Niall and I are ordering in Chinese, love, do you want anything?"

Usually Louis doesn't mind Zayn and Liam's constant togetherness. If he had a boyfriend he'd probably also stick to him like glue, but in this particular moment, Zayn's clinginess isn't welcome. Liam seems to realize this quickly though, and slips away from his embrace. 

"Pick something for me, okay? I'm talking to Louis, I'll be with you in hardly a moment," Liam pecks his boy on the cheek, watching for a second as he saunters away, before turning his attention to Louis again. "Okay, what's happening?"

Louis backs into the nearest door, pushing it open and beckoning at Liam to follow. All it leads to is a small closet like room, but it's big enough for them both to stand and have a conversation so that's enough for Louis. 

"I need to talk to you about Harry, I think something's really wrong."

Liam sighs. "If this is about him coming home in the middle of the night last night, I'm sorry, I always tell him  _ if you're gonna come home late, be quiet _ , but does he listen? Absolutely not."

"What? No, it's not that, that's hardly even- look, this is serious. I think- uh, I was talking to someone when I went to get lunch, I was talking to one of the guys that works on the set, and he told me something, Liam, something really  _ really _ fucked up, okay?"

Louis slides a hand over his forehead, somewhat distressed. He relays to Liam what Dilton told him, only a rather hurried, condensed version, and even then he still feels sick to his stomach just repeating it. 

"I'm not making this up," Louis finishes, driven by the urge to make it absolutely clear that every word he says is true and needs to be taken as such. "I could never-"

"I believe you," Liam's eyebrows have knit together and he looks troubled. "I believe you. Shit," he runs his fingers through his hair. "shit, I'll - I'll talk to Harry."

"You'll  _ talk to him _ ?" Louis repeats, shock dripping from his voice. 

"Yes, I'll talk to him."

"Like you'll just go up to him and be all 'Hi harry, I was just wondering um, are you being manipulated or abused? No worries if not haha' what do you mean you'll talk to him?" Louis demands.

Liam's smart and Louis knows he cares so why the hell is he acting like this is a mild to decently bothersome inconvenience and not a crime? It's a fucking  _ crime _ to use a kid like that- this is so sick, everything about this is so fucking  _ sick _ . 

Liam huffs, blowing the hair off his forehead. "First of all, I'm more than capable of handling this, so let me, and secondly, you can't believe everything a stagehand tells you. In this city everyone is looking for a story, a scandal. You can't dive head on into a rumor."

Louis steps back. Liam probably didn't mean it as a smear, but his words seem almost belittling.  _ You're not from here, Louis. Let me take care of it.  _

"Thank you for telling me," Liam says simply, turning towards the door. "I can take it from here."

"Hold on, hold on, wait," Louis grabs the back of Liam's shirt and tugs him back around. He's rarely so assertive, but Louis has hit and past the point of being fed up with this. "Why is everyone in this house so fucking determined not to admit that there's a problem? Everything is fine, Harry's fine when his crazy girlfriend throws a book at his face, it's fine when leaves for days and comes home looking like he walked into a semi truck on the highway, it's totally fucking normal when Zayn gets  _ black out drunk _ at a club and passes out, I mean, you'd think since he's your boyfriend you'd at least try to-

"Don't talk to me about Zayn," Liam interrupts, and the sharp edge in his voice commands Louis to fall silent immediately. He's realizing too late that Liam can very much be an intimidating person when he wants to be. "It's not your place to tell me how I should take care of him."

Liam runs his hands through his hair, looking frustrated. Louis is sure that if the closet they're closed into were any bigger, he'd start pacing. 

"Do you know how old I am, Louis? Nineteen.  _ Nineteen _ and I'm responsible for the whole lot of them 24/7. I'm not a nanny, I don't get time off. They're my family, and I love them, I'd pick them in any life but you have no idea the weight it puts on me. I see the problems, all of them, don't think for a second that I pretend nothing's wrong. Harry's been in and out of rehab three times in 16 months, and _I_ was the one who had to make sure he was okay, check in on him, follow up with his treatment plan, and tie up all the loose ends so it never leaked to the press that their perfect child star was being treated for addiction. It never worked for him, Louis. Harry's so fucking difficult, and resistant."

Liam slides down the wall, sinking to the floor. He looks tired and upset more than angry now. It reads on his face that he's just sick of all the bullshit. 

"It got to the point where rehab was only making it worse. He'd run away from the rehabilitation centers, fall of the radar for days and resurface worse than when he started, so we stopped trying. It's better to have him here, where I can more or less supervise whatever he's doing than to stick him in a program where he feels like he's trapped."

"But he still leaves," Louis says. He voices it carefully. He's not accusing, he's pointing out a flaw in the reasoning. 

Liam sighs. "He only leaves when someone presses too hard. We can keep him here most of the time. It's my fault when he leaves, I lose my patience too easily with him."

"He's too easily upset," Louis counters. "He burns everything down when it doesn't go his way."

"He has a trauma response," Liam states simply, getting to his feet and dusting off his knees. "It makes you act differently, it's not his fault."  


"Why though?" Louis presses. If he could just  _ understand _ then maybe things would make sense. Everything could be clear for once. "What's wrong with him? Why won't anyone-" 

"If you want to know things about Harry, I'd suggest you talk to Harry instead of standing in a hall closet demanding answers from me."

It's a clipped response, short and final enough that Louis knows he's not invited to press further. Liam opens the door of the walk-in and steps out, shutting it with a snap behind him. 

\---

"What the fuck have you done to Liam?" The demanding voice is bordering on indignant and it startles the hell out of Louis. He drops his apple pencil in surprise and catches the corner of his iPad before it can slip off his lap. Jesus if he broke this thing after all the money he spent on it-

"What the hell, Z, have you never heard of  _ knocking _ ?" Louis gathers his composure, retrieving his stylus and straightening up. "And I didn't do anything to Liam, what are you taking about?"

Zayn invites himself into Louis's room, toeing a pile of dirty laundry out of his way and sinking onto the bed. "You asked to talk to him earlier and he's just been laying in my bed upstairs ever since, and then just now he asked if I wanted to go out tonight."

"Like on a date? How's that a bad thing?"

"Like to a club, moron. What the fuck were you two talking about?"

"The weather," Louis says sourly, turning back to his photo folders on the iPad. Zayn frowns. 

"Louis," he folds his arms. "Don't play dumb."

"I'm not playing, this is really how I am."

Zayn rolls off the bed, getting to his feet. "You're a God damned nightmare," he plucks a pair of jeans off the floor and lobs them at Louis's head. "Are you coming with us, then?"

"I thought you didn't approve of going on because you're worried about Liam?"

"I'd never make my boyfriend drink alone."

"You say I'm the nightmare, but this house is a fucking nightmare."

\---

The vibe of this club is far too bass-y for Louis's taste. That sounds like a picky disposition to have, but the music choices here are so deep and thrumming that combined with the volume, Louis hasn't heard his own thoughts even once in the past two hours. He expects someone could go deaf in this place. 

The joint is supposed to be high end (only the best for stupid rich teenagers) but Louis is pretty sure he could find any place like this around Doncaster and the drinks would be half the price there. Course, Liam informed him coolly that he could order whatever he likes as they've already footed the bill. 

Louis doesn't think Liam's mad at him, but he's significantly more clipped than usual and acting far less responsibly than anyone would expect. He's supposed to be the one in charge here but the last time Louis saw Liam, he was doing shots with some brunette chick and her girlfriend. Zayn wasn't kidding when he said they were going out per Liam's request tonight. 

Louis isn't even close to being drunk enough to enjoy a place like this. He's had one drink, a flimsy beer that didn't do anything for him, and he can't bring himself to partake past that. He feels stuck watching Harry out of the corner of his eye. He doesn't want to but it's as if he can't stop. The urge to keep an eye on him is probably spurred by the information given to him by Dilton today. The information that Liam took far too lightly. The way Louis sees it is, if nobody's going to look out for this obnoxious, entitled kid, he'll do it himself. Louis will be damned if he watches Harry sink and drown. 

He's a protector by nature, an older sibling always is. 

Maybe Harry's just easy to watch though. He moves languidly over the dance floor, leaning on whoever strikes his fancy, drinking whatever someone presses into his hand, and he looks older, much older than he should. When Louis was his age he'd never even been to a real nightclub, much less had enough experience to con people into buying him drinks and fawning over him. 

It's the older men that seem to enjoy Harry the most. Probably because he's easy enough to be inviting, hard enough to be a challenge, and by far prettier than anyone else in the room, with his shirt halfway unbuttoned, slipping off his shoulder, and the dewy sheen of sweat from dancing. 

Louis isn't proud enough that he can't admit Harry's probably someone's wet dream. He can be a terrible, spoiled to the core person and still be more attractive than anyone else around him. 

Actually, if you think about it, being a rich, entitled arse probably increases your chances of being gorgeous. Who knows what kind of cosmetic work Harry's had done. Probably a nose job, Louis thinks sourly. Some sort of jaw sculpting.  _ Lip fillers _ . People don't just have lips like that gifted to them by God. And it's done well too, that only goes to show how much money Harry's made of. 

Something- or rather,  _ someone _ solid bumps into Louis’s side, making him jump and turn, but it’s only Zayn, who’s far less intimidating than the brutish man skulking in the corner who’s been eyeing Louis on and off for the past hour. 

"Jumpy, are you?" Zayn says, raising his voice above the music. 

"Just not in a going out mood," Louis murmurs. He probably can't even be heard with all the noise, but Zayn nods his head anyways. He looks tipsy enough, but not wasted. Not nearly as bad as he was last time. 

"You're not gonna take drugs from a stranger and pass out again, are you?" Louis inquires, only half joking. 

The younger boy rolls his eyes. "That was one time. Besides, I'm babysitting tonight."

"Babysitting?"

"Liam," the brunet jerks his head to the side, where Louis supposes Liam was last spotted but he isn't there anymore. "He's a little, well, a lot um, spiralling. He's had a rough week."

"Haven't we all?" It's Louis's turn to roll his eyes. 

"Maybe. Maybe not. Either way, you're hardly being fun. You need to drink something."

"I did, I'm fine, really-" Louis protests weakly but Zayn's already flapping his hand vaguely at the young bartender, who slides over two shot glasses of something or other. 

"Drink up!" Zayn says brightly, clapping him on the shoulder. "I'm gonna go find Liam and make sure he's still upright."

"Brilliant," Louis mutters, definitely too quiet for Zayn to hear above the thumping EDM dance mix blasting. He really doesn't need to drink whatever concoction has been placed in front of him, but on the same note... Liam's ignoring him, he hasn't seen his family in a month, and nothing is going how it's supposed to go, so perhaps a drink  _ is _ what he needs after all. 

He picks up the first glass and downs it. Whatever it is, it doesn't go down smoothly. It burns the back of his throat, and makes his eyes water, so he washes it down with the second shot, in hopes that it'll cancel the previous one out, but all it does is make his vision swim. 

He rarely gets instant hangover, but that was something else. 

Feeling significantly more intoxicated, Louis ambles from resting on the bar counter tops across the dance floor past grinding couple and into a darker, less frantic space sectioned off by velvet ropes and curtains. Nobody stops him so he wanders in. There's nobody on the dance floor here, instead there's a stage pitted above the rest of the crowd, filled with exotic dangers, male and female. Their work on the poles displays such strength and finesse that it almost fails to be sensual in favor of simply being artistic. Most onlookers are carrying drinks, waitresses in skimpy outfits drift through the audience with trays stopping at secluded little booths to take drink requests. 

Louis's never been in a strip club before. He wasn't really expecting them to be this classy if he's being honest. There's no screaming and throwing of dollar bills. Sure the dancers are mostly naked but half the people in this room are businessmen in suits, this place must not come cheap. It's clear that you come here for a performance, not a tacky dance. 

"Never seen a stripper before, Louis Tomlinson?"

Louis whips around at first sound of the drawling voice. He hadn't noticed Harry leaning against the wall behind him, whether he was there when Louis walked in or crept in after him, Louis has no idea. 

"I expect they don't have them wherever you're from? Probably the most you can get is a blowjob from the neighborhood tramp."

"I've seen one," Louis lies through his teeth. "And I grew up in a nice neighborhood, it wasn't like that."

That's still stretching the truth. Louis's family wasn't slumming it, but to say he grew up in a nice neighborhood is past an exaggeration. "And unlike you I don't let random people get on their knees for me."

"No, I suppose you're more a 'get on your knees for them' type, aren't you?" Harry's smirk walks a fine line between smugly annoying and obscene.

Louis hates that for even a second he allowed the image of Harry kneeling in front of  _ him  _ into his head. Louis has always been a vaguely horny drunk, he knows that. It doesn't mean he wants anything, his priorities are wildly skewed. It doesn't mean he actually wants anything. 

He decides the best way to brush harry off is to act completely thick-headed and annoying. "Who says anyone's on their knees, Harold? Perhaps I'm celibate."

Harry takes one step closer to Louis. He was close before, but he's almost uncomfortably near now, making Louis's skin prickle. "Are you? Celibate?"

Louis makes a face, taking a step back and resuming distance between them. "Saving myself till marriage," he drawls sarcastically. Harry seems to get the picture that Louis's just egging him on and flicks his eyes around in an annoyed roll.

The younger boy leans back against the wall, seeming to summon a cigarette from nowhere. He lights it and leans back, puffing out smoke. Louis doesn't even know how he's not getting pulled aside by security right now. He doesn't understand how any of this isn't massively illegal. 

Louis keeps stealing glances at Harry, though he's doing nothing but sucking on his cigarette and following the dancers on stage with his eyes. He doesn't look that drunk, but it's his gaze that gives it away. Eyes slow to respond, clouded and straying off from the target every now and again to stare into space. Whenever he blinks, long and slow, he looks like a tired child waiting to go home. 

Louis's head feels thick and woozy with intoxication. Whatever Zayn bought him was strong enough for two. 

"Do you like  _ boys _ , Lewis?" Harry's voice slurs off at the end of his words. He's unstuck himself from the wall and come to hover at Louis's shoulder. 

Louis stalls internally. He can't tell if it's some sort of trick question of sorts, so he crosses his arms over his chest to make himself look defiant. "I like everyone."  He was going for the effect of pretending not to understand the question, but it comes off more as being aggressively kind. 

Harry shakes his head. "No I mean," he swings around so he's in front of Louis, verging in backing him into the wall. "

Do you  _ fuck _ boys?"

"That's a rather personal question," Louis says. Maybe he squeaks it, but he'd never admit to it. From this proximity it's obvious how much taller Harry is. He smells like cigarettes and vodka, but with undertones of something sweeter, pleasant like a delicate cologne. It's out of character, the soft floral notes clashing with everything else about him. Harry's hands clutching around his glass are long, and nimble, dripping with rings. Those fingers could probably do a lot of things that Louis wants to see. And feel. 

God he's so fucking drunk what is he  _ thinking _ , Harry's sixteen years old. This isn't going to happen. 

Louis clears his throat, retrieving his focus from wherever it floated off too "It's a rather personal question," he repeats. "And I don't like you, I'm not telling you shit."

"As if I like you either," Harry rolls his eyes. "But it's the middle of the night, I've drunk off my ass, I haven't been able to walk in a straight line for an hour," he knocks back the rest of his drink. "And I'll be  _ damned _ if I leave here with another horny suburban dad cheating on his wife of 20 years. And you're the last youngish one left," he rests his eyes on Louis, raking them up and down his body in a way that makes Louis feel entirely too vulnerable. 

Louis can't tell if Harry was exaggerating about age ranges there, but he's more than a little concerned that there's a decent amount of truth to it. He's not going to say anything though. Not here, not now, when Liam's already pissed at him for meddling.

"What, is it some sort of rule that you've got to get laid every time you go out?" Louis inquires disdainfully. His head is starting to feel heavy. The hangover he's going to be sporting tomorrow isn't worth it. 

"Yes," Harry replies simply. "I've got an impressive libido, you can take it for a test drive if you'd like."

"I'm not letting you pull me," Louis blurts out. It's slightly too loud and forwards but he thinks if he didn't say it then he'd allow himself to be coerced into something he doesn't want. Something Sober Louis would be mad at him for. 

"What, you're too good to let me pick you up at a bar now?"

"You're too young for me," Louis says, putting as much malice in his voice as he can summon drunk at 2am. 

Harry laughs, but the humor doesn't reach his eyes. "Believe me, I could be going home with someone much older. It's fine, Lewis. That man over there has been eyeing me anyways," the younger boy points to a man with salt and pepper hair sat at a booth. He's indeed keeping Harry under a watchful gaze. "I bet he'll buy me something nice."

Fuck. Fuck  _ fuck _ Harry probably knows exactly what he's doing. If Louis goes with him he knows he's crossing the line, but if he doesn't, Harry's gonna end up with suburbia pedophile over there. Either way somebody's fucked. Literally and metaphorically. 

"I'm not even in the mood," Louis lies through his teeth in a last chance attempt to save himself. He digs his fingernails into his fist discreetly. Just thinking about not getting hard is making him hard. Curse Louis for being so shamelessly slutty when he gets drunk. 

"You will be."

"Hm, sounds vaguely threatening" Louis observes.

"No, you've just never had me. I'm good."

The way he emphasizes  _ I'm good _ is almost childlike in such a fucked up way. He's so emphatic about how he's good enough for Louis to want him, so determined to get Louis to have him. Why does he have to practically beg? Louis liked it better when Harry was cold and unfeeling than now when he's looming over Louis murmuring with pink, glossy lips that he's good, so good. 

“You’re such a whore when you’re drunk,” Louis intones in a cracked whisper. It doesn’t sound nearly as cocky as he wants it to. It’s so unfair that Harry has him all but backed against the wall, it’s so unfair that he has the advantage of height and it’s so fucking dumb how much Louis wants him.

Harry leans in, almost pressing his mouth to Louis's ear. His scent is stronger this close. Louis can almost taste the sweat on his collarbones. He could get high off it. " _ You’re _ a whore, Lewis, I haven’t even done anything and you’re gagging for it.” Harry hooks two fingers in the waistband of Louis’s pants and it’s everything he can do not to shiver at the sensation. “You’d let it happen in front of all these people if I touched you right now wouldn’t you?"

“No.” It sounds more like a stutter than a confident statement. “I might be a whore but i’m not a fucking exhibitionist.”

“At least you admit to the first part,” Harry noses into Louis’s hair, surprisingly gentle given that he’s trying to coerce Louis onto his knees right now.

“I know what you’re doing,” Louis blurts out. “You’re not fooling me, you might think you are but I’m not cluelessly walking into your trap.”

“I’m not trapping you anywhere, that’d be awfully rude. I’m just offering you something I know you won’t walk away from. Will you?”

Louis can’t see Harry’s face but he can imagine his eyes glittering darkly, his voice dripping with equal parts malice and seduction. His hand flips up the corner of Louis's shirt, gliding his fingers over his torso and Louis feels almost sick with lust. He can't feel those fingertips brushing him and walk away from it, he needs both hands, gripping his waist, his thighs, his hair-

"Fuck, I hate you," Louis groans. "Five minutes in the bathroom and if you tell Zayn or Liam or-"

"I'm not going to tell anyone, how shameless do you think I am," Harry flips Louis around so he's walking behind him, long fingers still holding onto Louis's hip to steer them both towards the bathrooms. “I doubt I’ll even remember this in the morning.”

When they reach their destination Louis thanks god, Jesus and the tooth fairy that they're single bathrooms and not stalls because they can just lock the door and not worry about it. He can worry about all of this tomorrow when he's not sloppy drunk and painfully hard. 

Harry backs against the wall and undoes the zip on his jeans quickly. If it’s any consolation, he’s at least as hard and desperate as Louis is. Louis drops to his knees shamelessly. There’s no use making polite, he’s not going to gently makeout with Harry and then ask him if he’s ready, they’re in a fucking nightclub bathroom and his knees already hurt. He pushes Harry’s hips back against the wall, holding him steady and yanking his briefs down. A hand rests on his forehead, pushing him back lightly and he looks up at Harry, almost annoyed. 

“Only if you want to,” Harry says after a small pause. If Louis didn’t know better, he’d almost think there was a flicker of genuine well-meaning in Harry’s eyes. 

“I wouldn’t fucking be here if I didn’t want,” Louis bristles. “You’re not that slick.”

Harry tips his head back on the wall and doesn’t say anything in reply. Bit late to be a gentleman now to be fucking honest.

Louis wraps his fist around Harry’s dick and has to kick away the vengeful urge to close his hand a little too hard for a second just to make him wince. He pumps him a few times instead, inadvertently falling in sync with the rhythm of the song beating muffedly outside the door, which he stops the second he realizes. He’s giving a blow job not a dance battle royale. Louis hopes Harry isn’t expecting a whole warm up routine because if he wanted something with foreplay he shouldn’t have pulled someone drunk at a club. He ends up taking him into his mouth a little too fast and has to crush his thumb in his clenched hand to avoid gagging. Louis’s not giving Harry the fucking satisfaction of gagging, not in this life or the next. 

Although, in reality Harry’s probably not paying attention to what noises Louis is making because he’s already that far gone even though Louis has barely moved. Tentatively he bobs his head up and down a few times and Harry lets out a broken moan that goes straight to Louis’s hard on. Harry’s normal speaking voice borders on the edge of sounding gravelly and fucked out at the best of times, so to actually hear him groan with that level of passion is doing things to Louis’s head. 

Harry fumbles around, bringing his hand to the back of Louis’s hair and pushing him back and forth almost instinctively. Louis doesn’t try to fight it because he’s not being particularly rough, if anything it’s actually kind of considerately gentle.  


It’s an almost pitifully short amount of time before Louis can feel Harry resisting the urge to buck his hips into Louis’s mouth and his sentences go from broken to incoherent and moaning and all Louis can do is tell himself that he’s not going to get off in his pants to the sound of Harry moaning because that’d be humiliating.

“Louis I- fuck, shit-” he pushes Louis’s head back as he starts to come but his reaction is slightly too delayed and Louis starts coughing. His jaw hurts and he’s pretty sure he has cum in his windpipe, which is far from ideal.

“I’m sorry,” Harry mumbles, and Louis has to admit that he genuinely sounds it. “I didn’t- fuck, I’m, I’ll get you off, stand up,” he pulls him up by his upper arm and undoes Louis’s jeans down enough to jack him off sloppily. Louis doesn’t really care though, he’s dizzy from all the drinks swimming around in his empty stomach and probably from lack of oxygen if he’s being honest. He leans his head forwards and rests it on Harry’s sweaty chest, too wiped out to care if it’s awkward. He finishes with a broken whine, oblivious to how loud he’s being. Louis feels like his jello legs could give out any second, especially post orgasm but he doesn’t get the chance to verbalize that before Harry’s phone starts ringing and he answers it as if he doesn’t have Louis’s come streaked all over his hand. 

“Before you chew me out, I  _ looked _ for Liam before disappearing,” Harry says aggressively the second he hits ‘accept call’. “I couldn’t find him fucking anywhere, I’m just in the bathroom anyways, it’s not like-” he breaks off suddenly and Louis can only assume the person on the other line is talking rapidly. Harry frowns, knitting his brow. “Fine, just keep him in once place and I’ll be right there. Louis? No, I have no idea. Great, bye.” Harry clicks his phone off and shoves it in his back pocket, zipping up his jeans and leaning over the sink for a second to wash his hands. 

“Liam’s gone and gotten himself fucked up and Zayn wants to take him home, he says it’s an emergency,” he throws a couple paper towels at Louis. “Clean up, you look like you got gangbanged, I hardly did anything to you.”

Louis rolls his eyes, too tired to think of a comeback. Harry pauses as he brushes past Louis on his way to the door. “And if anyone asks you were never in this bathroom.”

Louis has to resist the urge to reply with  _ fine  _ like a kindergartener ending an argument and stays silent instead. As soon as Harry’s gone he washes his hands and face, hoping he doesn’t look too debauched, and leaves the room quickly after.

It takes Louis a couple minutes of standing on his tiptoes looking around before he finds the other boys, mostly following the sound of Liam's uncharacteristically loud voice to guide himself back to them. They're all gathered near the exit, evidently waiting for Louis. 

"Sorry," he murmurs, avoiding meeting Harry's eyes at all costs. "started dancing, lost track of time," it's a lie, he knows it, Harry knows it, but no one else does and that's what counts. 

"Don't worry about it," Zayn days through gritted teeth. He's holding Liam by the back of his shirt, trying to keep him contained. "It wouldn't be any problem at all if Liam just didn't get  _ shitfaced _ -"

"Zayn, you do this  _ every _ time we go out," Niall deadpans. "How do you think he feels?"

"Yeah but he  _ knows  _ what to do in that event, he's never done this before so how am I supposed to know how to handle him?"

"We're all handling him," Niall offers brightly, slinging one of Liam's arms over his shoulder. "C'mon Payno let's get you home."

As they stand outside waiting for their chauffeur to arrive, all Louis can think is that he’s never seen Liam so unhinged. He’s the type of person who always has their shit together, speaks eloquently and would be able to hold their own in any sort of fight, but now he’s trying to walk into the busy road to see if he’s lucky enough to make it across. 

Zayn is doing everything in his power to keep him confined but it’s obvious that Liam’s taller and stronger and far more rowdy.

“I want to walk, I want to walk, let me, just  _ let me _ .” Liam sounds more whiny than aggressive, pushing at Zayn’s hands. “We could just walk home, this is taking too long.”

“It’s 15 minutes driving into the hills,” Harry rolls his eyes, gripping Liam’s shoulder. “We wouldn’t get there for at least an hour, two with you stumbling around. Just sit down, sit down, here on the curb, see how nice that is?” he lifts his voice like he’s talking to a disobedient child, trying to bribe them into listening. Liam sinks down slowly, almost suspiciously. “See, there you go, lean on Zayn, now you’re comfortable.”

“I’m comfortable,” Liam echoes, resting his head against the side of Zayn’s thigh. 

“How come he listens to you and not me?” Zayn grumbles, crossing his arms.

“Because you’re talking to him like he’s in his right mind and he’s not even close,” Harry shrugs. “You should see the way he talks to  _ you _ when you’re off your face.”

Niall snickers at the comment. “ _ Come here Z, let’s get you to bed baby doll, let me carry you darling’.  _ God it’s so embarrassing.”

Zayn’s cheeks go pink and Louis almost feels bad for him. “He never calls me that, you’re both liars.”

“Whatever makes you feel better, Zaynie.”

They collectively fall quiet, save for Liam bumping the his head on Zayn’s leg and repeatedly mumbling his name under his breath.

“Zayn, Zayn, Zayn,” his voice is mumbling and whiny, Louis can’t decide if it’s funny or pitiful. “I’m so tired, I’m tired, I need you, I just wanna be alone.”

Zayn slides down to sit on the curb beside Liam and wraps his arms around him, kissing his shoulder. “I’m right here, we’re gonna go home.”

“Jesus,” Niall whispers, turning away. “Who knew Liam would be such a bloody embarrassment.”

“Spare a thought for poor Liam,” Harry shakes his head, smirking “He’s never been this intoxicated before, he’s probably terrified.”

"You guys are so heartless," Zayn frowns up at them both, hugging Liam to his chest like a child. He does everything for all of us every time we get smashed, you all know that right? Niall I've seen him carry you out of a bar and then spoon feed you ice chips on the couch afterwards, and Harry…" Zayn looks smug. "Remember that time you got fucked up on whatever Ronnie gave you at her housewarming party and you pissed yourself? It was Liam that dragged you home and cleaned up that PR disaster."

Harry's eyes flash dark so fast that Louis is almost surprised he doesn't kick Zayn off the side of the curb right then and there. "That never happened," he scoffs but his cheekbones are pink even in the dark.

"Yes it fucking did," Zayn fires back. "You just don't have the balls to say it in front of Louis."

"I don't give a  _ fuck  _ what Louis thinks of anything I do," Harry spits maliciously, as if Louis isn't standing right there listening in. Alright, that's not hurtful, it's not like he didn't just blow him in a bathroom. Louis thought maybe he'd get just the  _ tiniest _ bit better treatment from Harry after this but apparently not. Serves him right for expecting anything, he  _ knew _ Harry was using him, Louis can't blame anyone but himself here. 

The chauffeur arrives promptly less than five minutes later. Louis was informed it has their be their private chauffeur and not a ride service for confidentiality reasons. After all it'd be disastrous for PR if the underaged cast of a well liked kids show was seen clambering drunk into an Uber. 

Harry and Zayn take Liam's arms and load him into the car while he talks in a loudly uncontrolled voice about the car that just drove by. 

" _ Two _ dogs," he slurs. "In such a small car, we should get dogs, right? We can get dogs."

"You told us we couldn't get dogs till we were independently able to take care of  _ ourselves _ remember?" Zayn pats the older boys arm and slides into the seat next to him, buckling them both in. Niall takes the spot on Zayn's other side, regretfully leaving Louis and Harry to the backseat together. 

Louis tries hard to ignore Harry's thigh pressing up against his, or the way Harry's elbow knocks against his every now and then. He hates the way it makes his breath quicken, like a sappy teen sat next to their crush. 

If there's any consolation prize, at least Liam's not mad at Louis anymore. Outwardly at least. He's too busy clambering all over Zayn and kissing all over his face. The chauffeur looks unphased by it and it makes Louis wonder what kind of things he's seen. 

"He's used to it." Niall cranes his neck back to look at Louis, answering his unspoken question. "Our driver, he's used to seeing horrifying things. If you think Payno and Zayn are bad you should ask Harry to tell you about the hand jobs he's given and received in this car."

Harry leans forward and shoves Niall's head with the flat of his palm. "You're jealous because you can't get any."

"Or maybe I'm just satisfied with life and don't rely on hookups to fill a hole in my heart."

"I don't have a hole I'm just horny."

There's a short silence following that statement and then Niall bursts out laughing, throwing his head back and clapping his hands. "I cannot believe I just baited you into saying that."

"Shut up Niall, you  _ never _ know when to be quiet." Harry shifts in his seat, shoving his seatbelt under his armpits instead of across his shoulder. He probably tries to scoot away from Louis but it ends up feeling like he squished closer. 

God Louis won't get hard over him again tonight, the first time was humiliating enough. He can't imagine how he's going to feel about it in the morning, fully sober and faced with his actions. 

The ride back to the mansion feels surprisingly short given how tense it is in the care. Harry brooding and unreadable, Zayn and Liam are all but making out and Niall's clearly in an annoying mood, trying to bait Harry into going off like a grenade. Instantaneous and dangerous. 

When they pull into the driveway Zayn is the first out, helping Liam clamber out carefully and Niall hops after them, taking Liam's other side. Harry pointedly ignores Louis while exiting, shutting the door in his face before Louis has a chance to get out. 

_ Cunt _ .

Louis reopens the door and bids the driver a goodnight before heading inside. The good thing about all the staff here is that you never return to a cold, dark house, it's always warm and well lit and upkept no matter what. 

Zayn and Liam are gone by the time Louis gets inside. He pokes his head into the kitchen, spotting Niall hovering in front of the fridge. 

"Where're Zee and Liam?"

Niall rounds on him. "Honestly? They probably went upstairs to have sex. Thinking they're subtle and all. Yeah I'll be down here for awhile waiting that out. FIFA?"

Louis hesitates, almost saying yes but copping out last second. "Sorry mate, I'm really tired. I should just try to get some sleep."

He'd rather face his hangover shame tomorrow well rested than exhausted. 

"Must be nice to have the luxury," Niall murmurs. "Alright then, fuck off to bed. Gnight."

"Night," Louis calls, already heading for the stairs. He neglects to watch where he's going, looking down at his feet instead, and as a result he walks right into Harry, who's paused at the top of the staircase on his phone. 

"Fuck, sorry," Louis murmurs. He cringes, bracing himself for the onslaught of reprimands. 

"Do you ever watch where you're going?"

"You're hovering at the top of the fucking staircase, you're telling me you have no where better in this whole palace to lounge around on your phone?"

"This is my house, I'll hover where I want, Lewis."

Louis shakes his head, almost in disbelief. "You're such a prick, you  _ know _ that's not my name."

"Lewis?"

"It's  _ Louis, _ " Louis hisses. "And you know that."

Harry cocks his head to the side, studying Louis with a smirk dancing on his lips as if Louis is this fascinating and pathetic little creature. "I liked you better on your knees, Lewis. You were a lot quieter."

Harry turns around with a lingering smirk and saunters off. 

All Louis can think of is how he's going to feel the sting off that long after his hangover has faded.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think this is one of the first chapters where we really get insight on some of harry's issues??? What did you all think? I'm really excited for you all to slowly uncover the bigger picture of the enigma that is a Harry. Also, can I just say, I've written a lot of Larry fics and the characters in this one are by FAR my favorite? I spent all spring developing them and plotting with my best friend and they are *so* real to me, I've never felt so in touch with a batch of characters before, especially Harry. I feel like he's my little baby :')
> 
> Also, I don't think I've ever shouted out my socials here but if you want to follow me on instagram, i'm @heavenlyfool. DM me if you came from here because i abbssooolutely want to be friends with everyone reading this fic.
> 
> again, thank you for all the love and sweet comments on the last few chapters, i love you guys and everything you have to say!
> 
> Also also also, go listen to Greek Tragedy by The Wombats, it's such a Harry song for this fic. If you want to get into my headspace, i've got a whole playlist for the fic called 'HAC' on my spotify, which is icandy333. Okay that's all, i'll stop talking now!


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW for sexual assault in this chapter too! Read with caution please <3

Louis wakes up feeling like he was run over by a cement truck and left for the dead. He debates rolling over and going back to sleep (hopefully forever) but the looming shame of wasting his day hangs too heavy over his head to allow him any more rest. He has pictures to edit today, he can't delay sending those in to HQ any longer. He could get fired and then he'd be sent home where he doesn't have the luxury of being able to see Harry Styles backstroking through the pool in from his bedroom window.

Harry fucking Styles. Fucking Harry Styles more like. Something Louis decidedly shouldn't have done last night - though in defense of his drunk, extremely hotheaded self, they didn't take things as far as they could have. He didn't even kiss Harry which was... unfortunate. If Louis is going to wake up with the guilt of having given Harry a blowjob in a club bathroom he should at least be able to say he made out with those unrealistically pink lips. 

Fuck, what a life. Louis rolls out of the bed and into his en suite. The wide mirror reflects his haggard, rumpled appearance. He looks like he lost weight, which, it's not like he was sickly thin to begin with but he liked the way he looked when he left home. Now he looks... different. Older. Less healthy and childishly soft. 

Louis has never felt such a rush of imposter syndrome than he does standing, looking at himself in that mirror. The way he lives now, the things he does, the people- fuck the people he hangs around. It's nothing like the innocent gig he pictured when he was offered the job. These people were supposed to be kids, he figured he'd be kicking it poolside sipping orange juice with a bunch of teenagers, not hooking up in club bathrooms. 

God what would Fizzy think? Louis practically had sex with her idol, that's so...he can never tell her, he could never destroy her innocence like that. It'd go against that fucking gag contract Louis signed anyways. Nobody's supposed to know Zayn and Harry are gay or do gay things. Fizzy doesn't even know her own brother is gay, much less her favorite Disney star. 

Louis doesn't know how his life got this complicated in six weeks. It's like walking barefoot through a minefield. Something's bound to explode. 

-

Louis supposed there are simple things about life here too. For instance, he deeply appreciates the small luxuries he has, like his ability to grab a high end sparkling water from the fridge and settle down on the papasan with his laptop to edit this week's batch of photos. 

Louis can't begin the explain the plain happiness he gets from papasan chairs. It's basically a pedestal with a bowl shaped frame lined by a large, squashy cushion. He has one at home on his front porch that could fit one or two people but the one in the living room here is at least twice as big. You could comfortably have a small slumber party in this thing. 

"Hey."

Louis looks up, pulled from his work. Zayn's ambled into the room dressed down in only trackies and a long cardigan over his bare chest. He looks tired, his hair rumpled. On any other person Louis supposed the descriptive word would be 'disheveled' but Zayn, as he always somehow does, manages to make it look intentional. Taking morning rumpled to gracefully tousled. 

"You sleep alright?" Louis asks, tucking one arm behind his head. 

Zayn rolls his eyes back, looking annoyed. "Hardly. Liam's a nightmare when he's drunk, took me a goddamn lifetime to get him to bed after we got home."

Louis wrinkles his nose. "Niall said you guys were going at it, I just assumed you guys were having a grand old time upstairs."

"Not even close. Whatever the opposing of 'a grand old time' is; we were having that." Zayn paces over to the papasan and plops himself down, laying on his back half curled next to Louis. "He's like, borderline psychotic when he drinks and he knows it so he rarely drinks- not in a scary way, he'd never do that, he's just paranoid and one second he's freaking out that I'm going to break up with him and then the next he's saying that he needs to breakup with me so that I can focus on my career and I'm just like - I wanna sleep, you know?"

Louis nods agreeably. He hasn't dated long-term before so he doesn't really know but he likes to imagine he has a grasp on the emotions Zayn's trying to convey. 

"Anyways, the third time he rolled over aggressively and smacked into me I gave up and went to sleep in Harry's bed. Come to think of it... that wasn't much better. He sits up a lot in the middle of the night," Zayn frowns, almost thoughtfully for a second and then shakes his head. "Anyways, it wasn't my best night. Can't say it was the worst though. You?"

"Went to sleep hungover, woke up hungover, just trying to stay one step ahead and get these pictures turned in."

Zayn yawns, flipping and resting his chin on Louis's shoulder. "You're more committed to this than I could ever be," he murmurs sleepily. 

Louis smiles softly to himself. There's something cathartic about just laying there working quietly. At home it was his sisters that would cuddle up next to him while he worked on whatever he had to do, and Louis didn't realize how much he missed consistent human touch until now. Louis never had a brother but if he did, he thinks he'd probably be like Zayn. Artistic and funny and recklessly chaotic.

Louis is gonna fucking miss Zayn when he leaves. 

Zayn talks languidly of unimportant things, the painting he's working on, the script he last received, the fact that he needs a haircut. Mostly he's kind of warm and Louis gets cold so he appreciates body heat as much as the company. 

"So I think maybe I can buy the book online but even then, with expedited shipping it won't get here for a couple- hey, you're up late."

Louis glances over when Zayn breaks off. Harry shuffled into the room so quietly he didn't even hear him coming. In hindsight Louis wishes he would have at least brushed his hair or his teeth before coming downstairs this morning. Harry looks striking and brooding as he always does, which is unfair given the hangover he should have. If Louis looked that good after a night out he doesn't know what he'd do. Maybe if he had curly hair it'd work. 

"Why'd you come sleep with me last night?" Harry directs at Zayn, stifling a yawn. "Lookin for something an inhibited Liam simply... couldn't provide?" Harry's smirk is suggestively lewd. 

"You wish I was, Liam wasn't letting me sleep." Zayn rolls onto his side, holding out his arms. "Come lay."

Harry ambles over, sitting down next to Zayn and letting the older boy pull him in. For whatever reason, Zayn seems to be the only person Harry is passively agreeable and affectionate with. Everyone else runs the risk of facing one of his blowups but Zayn he seems to have a soft spot for. 

Louis tries hard to look at his computer and not get distracted glancing out of the corner of his eye at the way Harry let's Zayn comb through his hair delicately. He looks much younger and softer like this, curled up. It's easy to forget that he's just a kid. 

“You talk a lot in your sleep,” Zayn murmurs, tucking his chin comfortably onto Harry’s shoulder. Harry’s blinks slowly, his eyelashes sweeping over dewy skin.

“And you’re whiny when you sleep. Can’t get away from you, you’re always rolling back against me.”

“Sorry, I haven’t slept alone regularly in three years, sue me for being used to having someone else.”

Louis decides against thinking about who Zayn was sharing a bed with three years ago if he and Liam have only been together for a year or two. That’s an entirely different discussion. He works in silence, listening vaguely to the other two speak in hushed tones together. For the most part, Zayn talks and Harry occasionally answers in a low voice and short sentences, but more often than not he just nods, or lets his eyes blink shut sleepily for a while. If Louis didn’t know how very taken Zayn was, he’d almost be jealous. As much as he hates to admit it, Louis would love to be curled up to tired, soft spoken morning Harry, brushing his hair and talking to him in whispers.

Jesus christ what's he thinking? He gives one good blowjob and he's ready to settle down? What is this, middle school? It wasn't even that good. They were smashed, any touch was enough to get them off. 

And Harry won’t even look him in the eye.

Time passes in slow, sleepy dollops until Liam stumbles into the room looking more disoriented than Louis has ever seen him. 

"You left," Liam mumbles, and it takes Louis a minute to realize the comment is directed at Zayn. Next to him, Zayn rolls over to face the doorway Liam walked through. 

"You kicked too much."

"Where did you go?"

"Harry's room, how did you sleep?"

"Bad, because you left!" Liam looks groggy and wounded, standing in the entrance of the room rubbing his eyes and tugging at his bedhead. 

Zayn catapults himself out of the papasan, knocking Harry closer to Louis in his kick-back, but to Louis's surprise the younger boy doesn't move away, he hardly seems to notice Zayn left at all, he's just staring up at the ceiling vacantly, picking at a fleck of dry skin on his bottom lip. 

Zayn crosses the room, enveloping Liam into his arms and squeezing him. "Come sit down, we'll take a nap, redo after last night."

Liam shakes his head, looking incredibly pained. "There's no time, we need to be on set, I have to shower."

"On set?" Next to Liam, Zayn looks small and pouty. "Why on set? Can't we just take the day off?"

"Zayn, love, you've had half the days this month off. You know, when you have a job, sometimes that means... actually showing up to work."

\---

Louis is surprised at how much he dislikes filming. He always thought that'd be a big draw for him because filming in his little hometown studio was nothing short of very enjoyable, but now, on an actual film set in actual Hollywood, he can't stand it. It's horribly hot everyday, the shoots take an eternity to finish and as soon as you think you're done, they reshoot because somebody decided it didn't fit the vision. 

Exhausting. 

Louis finds himself over-using the same excuse he'd pull on his mom when he was little and she'd make him do things like yardwork and chores. 'I have to go to the bathroom!'

He does not, in fact, have to go to the bathroom, but saying he does gives him a good fifteen minute to himself, factoring in the walk to and from the soundstage to the men's room. 

Trying to walk in the shade, Louis weaves his way through the maze of costume and makeup trailers set up in the back lot. He's hoping that, if he pushes it a little, he'll have enough time in his 'bathroom trip' to grab snacks from the food carts and finish them before he gets back. 

"I can't right now, I'm sorry, but I really don't want to, I just can't."

A whimpering intonation floats past Louis and in his warpath for snacks, he stumbles to a halt. That's Harry's voice. Harry's supposed to be in the costumes department doing a second round of fittings so why would he be in 'C. Delaney's' trailer? 

Delaney... Delaney...Dilton. Delaney is the person that guy Dilton told him about, the guy that-

"You keep saying that, Haz, I'm beginning to think you don't enjoy our time together?"

A different voice, American, and softer. Colder. Delaney. And whoever he is he must be either cocky or stupid because he's left the window cracked open just enough that standing directly outside, Louis can hear every word they say. 

"Please," Harry's voice sounds smaller than Louis has ever heard it. "I feel sick today, I don't want to, no I really don't- Christopher-" 

The barely audible snap of skin against skin can be heard and the lighter American voice gasps. "Did you just hit me? You don't hit me, you don't fucking-"

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, please I'm going to throw up, I feel sick, don't touch me please-"

Louis realizes sickly that Harry's voice isn't just tiny and low, he's crying. Fuck that, this isn't happening. He'll play his safest bet- act completely dumb.

Urging himself to present inconspicuously, Louis hops up the two steps into the trailer and yanks the door open. He can't hear the sound of two people jumping away from each other, so much as he just knows it happened because when he walks in, Harry's leaning against the fold out table and the other man - Delaney - is standing by the window. 

"Hi!" Louis grits his teeth into a smile. He wants to punch this piece of shit human rights here and right now and it takes a lot to remind himself that this isn't about creating a scene right at this moment, it's about getting Harry - Harry who looks thoroughly shaken and started by the interruption - out of here quickly.

"I thought I saw Harry's silhouette in here! Mate, we need you back on set. It's um, reshoots, you know, pain in the arse, but necessary, am I right?"

"Of course," Delaney cuts in smoothly, coming to stand by Harry. "Mr. Styles and I were just talking about future plans for the show! Spinoffs, a movie deal perhaps...very exciting stuff, right Harry?" He sets his hands on the younger boy's shoulders. 

"Right," Harry breathes, flinching away. He looks grey and nauseous. 

"Fantastic," Louis simpers. "We'll I'll just grab you Harry and we'll be off."

He reaches out for Harry's hand, tugging him towards the door. "Bye then, Mr. Delaney."

The door swings firmly shut behind at the same time Harry halfway trips down the two steps onto the pavement and Louis has to grab him before he falls. He waits until they're around the corner and out of sight to throw Harry's arm around his shoulder, holding tightly to Harry's left hand with his own to keep him upright. He's feverish and looks violently nauseous. 

"Are you okay?"

"Okay with what?" Harry's dark hair is plastered to his forehead, he looks a mess and he's scared too but he still tries to put on the front. 

"Stop, I'm not that slow. I heard what was happening," Louis stops them both at the bathroom, letting go of Harry and propping him against the wall of the building. "I know what's going on with him, Delaney. Dilton the stagehand told me."

"A misunderstanding," Harry murmurs, leaning his head back. "It's nothing to worry about, don't- sorry, excuse me, I'm going to throw up."

He ducks into the bathroom, locking the door behind him. Louis can hear the sound of him dry heaving dragging on for far too long. Tap water turns on and off and then back on again, and Louis is starting to wonder if Harry's trying to drown himself in the sink or something when he opens the door and emerges. 

He's not shaking, his normal complexion has returned. You'd never tell he was crying five minutes ago. He looks...normal. 

"No," Louis bites out of before he can catch himself. "No, this is- what happened in there was not fucking okay, you don't get to wash your face and convince me this never happened, you don't -"

With alarming speed, Harry drags Louis around to the side of the building that faces nothing but a fence, perfect to avoid being seen or heard, and holds him against the wall. 

"You don't know anything about anything on how this business works, you don't have any idea what goes on behind the scenes, you're disgustingly naive and it shows. I suggest you don't start meddling in things that don't concern you because I've been here long enough, Louis, I know what happens to people who meddle."

Louis looks up, intentionally meeting Harry's eyes. It hurts how pure green and innocent they look. The rest of him is straight intensity but his eyes are just...scared. 

"You don't have to put up with this, Harry," he says quietly. 

Harry releases him with the arm he was using to push Louis against the wall. "Of course I do. I'm sixteen, a child. I don't have a voice. They made sure of that a long time ago. The best thing I did for myself was learn how to take the hits and keep moving. Shut up, smile. I learned my place, Louis. Learn yours.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The way this chapter makes me so sad because Harry's dialogue at the end breaks my heart 😭
> 
> Cradles by Sub Urban is The Song for this chapter because the imagery is very dark and sulking and the themes have a lot to do with being overlooked and silenced because you're young, even when you're crying out for help. Very applicable to Harry. 
> 
> Hope you liked the chapter! Updates may slow down a littlleee bit because of the holidays, we'll see how that goes. 
> 
> Also, there are some bigger things happening in the upcoming chapters but I need some little filler scenes so if there's anything you've ever wanted to see the boys do or experience in this work, comment them down below and I'll read them over and see if they strike some inspiration. Thank youuuuu 💞


	18. Chapter 18

Louis hardly sees Harry for the rest of the week after that. He says nothing of what happened that day on set to anyone, which makes him feel sick with guilt, but he’s scared of intervening further. Scared of Harry, scared of Liam, who admittedly seems to have forgiven Louis for the last incident of meddling, but he’s hesitant to push any further. But mostly Louis is scared of taking away what little voice Harry has left by telling his story. 

He feels like he’s stuck in this limbo, waiting for the other shoe to drop, for someone else to notice that something is terribly wrong in this situation, that someone - that Harry - is getting hurt. Is it just him? How many others? How many kids has Delaney taken under his control like that? Zayn? Niall? Different actors at different shows in different cities? The enormity of all the damage one person can do makes Louis’s head swim. Sometimes, selfishly, he thinks that life would be so uncomplicated if he’d never taken this job.

Louis watches Harry now, actually watches him instead of judging him distastefully. It makes him feel slightly better about everything knowing that he’s keeping an eye on the things that no one else seems to notice, but he hates the way he looks at Harry differently now. It’s hard to hate someone when you can see how much they’re hurting all the time. Louis doesn’t see conceited prick anymore, he just sees sad and scared and controlled.

After the incident in the bathroom and the situation with Delaney Louis doesn’t exactly know how he feels about Harry anymore, he tries not to focus on it frankly, but he knows he doesn’t hate him. If he hated him, Louis wouldn’t feel the insistent urge to protect him.

\--

They wrap the week of shooting on Friday, midmorning and return back to the house by noon. At that point Harry usually disappears all weekend, either to his room or god knows where else, but this week he seems to have a different agenda, which Louis can only classify as ‘restless’. 

He walks all over the house, up and down the stairs, drifting through the rooms looking very close to agitated. Louis would ask him what he’s looking for if he weren’t scared of Harry biting his head off for the question.

It’s nearing golden hour, when the sun begins to sink slowly, lighting everything ablaze in warm light, and Louis has been roped into gaming with the other boys - sans Harry of course - since about 1pm, although gaming is a stretch of the term. They’re shuffling through the mini games on an old nintendo wii console, which is hopeless outdated and low tech but Niall seems to think it’s great fun and keeps roping the other three in for another round. Louis cross legged on the floor, the back of his head knocking against Niall’s knees. Zayn’s seated comfortably on Liam’s lap, despite complaints from the latter that it’s affecting his gameplay, although Liam hardly seems inclined to remove the hand he has snuck under Zayn’s t-shirt, affectionately holding him close.

“We’ve played through all the four player games,” Niall complains loudly, reaching over Louis’s head to snag the crisps bag from the coffee table. “Maybe we should pair up and do two player vs two player?”

“Maybe the fact that we’ve finished all the multiplayer minigames is a sign that we all need to get up and do something else,” Liam suggests lightly, earning him a hard glare from Niall. 

“As if we’d do anything productive on the weekend,” the blond scoffs. “Try again. We’re doing Splash Bash and nobody is arguing. Louis you’re on my team.”

Nobody cared to explain to Louis how to work the controls for that particular game, so he and Niall were on a four game losing streak before Zayn pointed out he was holding his remote upside down. They’re on the cusp of their first victory when Harry walks in, standing in front of the TV.

“Harry, you whore!” Niall snaps. “We were about to win, prick.”

“Why’ve you taken my phone?” Harry ignores Niall’s complaints and directs his attention solely on Liam, who looks backed into a corner. 

“I didn’t take it, I moved it.” 

“I want it back then. Please.” Harry’s eyes are dark, with the brightness of the television behind him he’s almost reduced to a silhouette. 

Liam shifts uncomfortably, scooting Zayn off of his lap and standing up. “Can we talk about this in the kitchen?”

“My phone, Liam!”

Louis feels his own shoulders twitch in surprise at the unexpected jump in volume. Nobody ever yells at Liam like that. Niall seems to have the same thought because he tosses his controller down and frowns at Harry.

“The fuck, Haz. Don’t yell at Liam.”

“I’m sixteen, he can’t take my fucking phone, you can’t tell me what to do Liam, give me my fucking things back I swear to god-”

Liam pinches the bridge of his nose like the outburst is giving him a sudden headache. “Can we please just talk in the kitchen, you really don’t have to do this right now, Harry.”

“I’m not going off so you can give me something and put me to bed,” Harry spits, turning on his heel, kicking over a foot stool as he strides towards the exit. “I’ll find it myself.”

Liam trudges after him, still pinching his nose. 

As soon as they’re both gone Louis sits up straight. “Jesus christ, what’s his problem?”

“Low blood sugar,” Niall suggests, popping a crisp into his mouth. “Like a baby, gets cranky when you don’t feed him.”

“He’s probably just tired,” Zayn says dismissively, but his face looks troubled. “Liam will take care of it.”

“Bless his heart,” Niall says fondly. “Crisps, anyone?”

They play a few more rounds without Liam before Louis announces he needs a break for his sanity. The other two boo him as he leaves the room but frankly his eyes are starting to hurt from staring at the screen for so long. He pauses in the kitchen long enough to grab a sparkling water and continues ambling out into the back patio near the pool. It’s cooler out here and the sun has sunk below the horizon, leaving behind dusk and crickets, humming softly in their bushes. 

Outside reminds him of the stillness Louis had back at home, which subsequently reminds him he should phone his mum and his sisters. He glances down at his watch. No it’s hardly 3am there, not one person will be awake if they’re still sane. He’ll call them in the morning, should he be so lucky and remember. 

“Louis.”

Louis jerks his head up, looking around for the source of the voice. He’s almost sure he imagined it until he sees the top of Harry’s head across the patio on the other side of the pool. He’s sat down, bare feet in the water, which is probably why Louis didn’t see him at first. “What?”

“Why are you out here?” Harry doesn’t address him at all when he speaks, he doesn’t even look up, he just keeps staring into the water, frozen.

“I was just, um...fresh air, I suppose. Why are you out here?”

“It’s my house,” Harry says simply. He raises his head slowly, cocking his head to look at Louis, but Louis gets the unsettling feeling Harry’s not seeing him at all, just looking right through him.

“Did you know a perfectly healthy person could have a brain aneurysm at any time? No warning, just happens. You or me, right now, either one of us could die. No one talks about that.” Harry states the fact abruptly and looks back down at the water again, shaking his head and smiling like he can’t believe how amusing sudden death is.

“It’s just so fucking funny how hard we all work to make something mean something to anyone when in reality we could just cease to exist in an instant and then what? You get an hour long service bragging about all the shit you did and then everyone slowly forgets you.” Harry giggles, rubbing his eyes. “Oh god it’s so humiliating, the space between life and death. We all try so hard, for nothing.”

Louis sets his drink down on the lounge table next to him and walks around the edge of the pool to where Harry’s sitting. “What are you taking?” he grabs Harry’s hands, unfolding his empty palms to see if they hold anything. “Are you on something right now, is that what happened? You get pissed at Liam and now you’re absolutely off your arse just to upset him?

Harry jerks his hands away. “I’m not on anything, you don’t have to take anything to have periodic moments of awakening.”

“You’re hammered, I’m getting Liam.”

“Then get Liam, I don’t give a fuck, I hope he comes to pick me up locks me in a psychiatric ward again, I don’t care.”

The sound of Harry’s fading voice chases Louis as he jogs back into the house, rounding the corner into the kitchen and stopping when he sees Zayn. “Hi, sorry, where’s Liam?”

“I dunno, why? What’s wrong?”

“Harry’s by the pool, I think he’s completely pissed on something, talking about aneurysms…”

Zayn rolls his eyes. “He’s sober, he’s fine.”

“Fine? He’s not fine, I was just out there, he’s having some sort of existential crisis or something.”

“Exactly, he’s fine, he only has existential crises when he’s sober. When he’s fucked up on something he just goes off to have sex and sleep it off after that.”

“You’re just going to let him sit out there then? Louis demands, though a little of his worry ebbs away at Zayn’s lack of concern.

“Yeah, mate, he’ll be fine, he’s just having an episode.”

“An episode?” Louis repeats. It seems an odd word choice and Zayn seems to pick up on that.

“A moment,” he amends smoothly. “He’s fine, Liam always makes sure he’s fine.”

“Why does it always have to be Liam?”

“Because good luck getting Harry to listen to anyone else. Listen, I was thinking of ordering chinese, you want in?”

“As long as you promise Harry’s not about to drown himself in the pool.”

“He’s not drowning himself in the pool,” Zayn takes Louis’s shoulders and steers him into the living room. “So, fried rice or chow mein?”

-

The first commotion, Louis heard through his sleep and thought it was part of the dream. The second was enough to stir him awake but the third, a door snapping shut loudly, makes him sit upright, heart racing. He glances at the clock. 2:14am. Why the hell are any of them up at 2am?

Louis pushes his covers back and swings out of bed, opening his door just in time to see Liam jogging down the stairs fully dressed. The hall light is on and so are most of the ones downstairs. Louis follows after him, curiously concerned. As he reaches the landing he can hear voices back and forth in rapid undertones. 

“-Have to go now to pick him up, monitor everything to make sure no one saw anything or says anything. God damnit.”

The sound of something being kicked aggressively echoes through the lower level of the house as Louis walks into the kitchen. Liam is leaning on the kitchen island looking troubled while Zayn rubs his shoulder, talking to him in a low voice and Niall watches on, chewing his nails. 

“What’s going on?”

Three pairs of eyes snap onto Louis the second he speaks. Liam gathers his composure immediately. 

“Louis, you’re awake! Nothing to worry about, don’t think much of it. Head back to your room, yeah? It’s nothing, really.”

“I’m not that dumb,” Louis says dryly. “It’s the middle of the night and you’re all in the kitchen looking like all hell’s broken loose. Where’s Harry?”

Liam glances at Zayn and then back at Louis, sighing heavily. “Los Angeles Police Department.”

“He got arrested?”

“No, thank god, just picked up. An officer on patrol found him walking down towards DTLA barefoot in nothing but boxers. They’re holding him till a parent or guardian comes to pick him up.” Liam messes up his hair. “I didn’t even know he’d left the house.”

Louis rounds on Zayn. “I told you something was wrong with him!”

“You told me he was taking something and I told you he was sober, and he is.”

“Sober my ass, Zayn, he’s walking through greater LA in-”

“Harry’s bipolar,” Liam cuts in, shutting them both up. “Manic depressive, whichever you prefer. He only started exhibiting symptoms a year or so ago, that’s why he gets like this. He’s not on anything, he’s just having a manic episode. He’s supposed to take medication for it, it helps most of the time, or at least gives some sort of warning...god, if i was just paying more attention.”

“Liam, you can’t change anything now,” Zayn says gently, and Niall nods in agreement. “Just go get him and bring him home and we’ll deal with everything else as it happens. The most important thing is that they picked him up and nothing happened.”

“Yeah, no, no, you’re right. Of course you’re right. I’m gonna...yeah, I’m gonna go, I’ll be back.”

The three of them stand in the kitchen motionlessly until Niall suggests they move to the living room, where they proceed to sit in silence. 

Louis doesn’t know anything about being bipolar. If he did it would help him gain some sort of perspective on the whole situation, but he feels rather in the dark about it. Are you born bipolar? Is it some sort of trauma response disorder like PTSD? Can you recover from it? It seems impertinent to pull out his phone and start googling bipolar disorder right now, so Louis resigns himself to sitting silently with the others until a car can be heard pulling up outside and Liam opens the door, Harry in tow. The younger boy doesn’t seem inclined to go quietly, whining and kicking and twisting away. No one says anything as Liam drags him into the bathroom and shuts the door. It muffles their conversation, but not enough that bits and pieces can’t still be heard, and definitely not enough to cover up when Harry starts yelling. It sounds like something is thrown against the door before shattering on the floor and Liam raises his voice above Harry’s.

“If you can’t stop, I have to take you to the hospital, do you understand? I will have to, you need to calm down right now.”

Zayn pushes his face into his hands, groaning. “Fuck I just want to go to bed,” he whispers. Nobody says anything back. 

It seems like hours and hours pass before Harry gets ahold of himself and the bathroom falls quiet. According to the clock on the wall, the whole thing has passed in about an hour but Louis thinks that can’t be right. The door opens and Liam comes out, holding Harry by his upper arm. The younger boy looks dazed, tired mostly. 

“I’ve gotten him to take everything he should have been taking,” Liam says wearily. “He should be fine, I’m taking him to his room and then going to bed. You should all try to get some sleep.”

“Of course,” Zayn murmurs softly, hopping up and going to Harry’s other side, taking his arm gently and helping him up the stairs. The three of them disappear, leaving only Niall with Louis.

“Sorry about that,” Niall mutters, and for once there’s no trace of humor in his face. “Harry is...he’s had it rough, don’t judge him too harshly. And Louis?”

“Yeah?”

“He’s...ashamed, I guess. Of being bipolar. So even if he’s being a dick don’t use it against him.”

“Of course not,” Louis almost whispers. As if he even cares about having dirt on Harry anymore, as if antagonizing him is even on his radar when there are so many greater concerns. “I wouldn’t do that.”

“Great,” Niall stands up, brushing his hands on the legs of his sweatpants. “We’ll, I’ll just...goodnight then.”

“G’night, Niall.”

\---

Louis sleeps restlessly, waking up tired. He ponders phoning home but after a moment's contemplation he realizes after last night he's not in the right headspace to give his mum cheerful updates. 

Louis dresses half-heartedly in sweat pants and a T-shirt that may actually belong to one of the other boys because he doesn't recall owning it before coming to LA. It probably got lumped in with the laundry and incorrectly distributed to his room. 

Downstairs he's met with dismal quiet. Liam's got his iPad propped in front of his cereal and he's typing determinedly fast. Zayn's resting his chin in his folded hands looking zoned out and even Niall looks too preoccupied for breakfast, which is a true sign of the times. 

"How's...erm, how's Harry?"

"Sleeping," Liam murmurs, not looking up from his screen. "Don't expect him to be up and about for awhile."

"What did you give him?" 

"Give him? Oh last night. Nothing serious, nothing that lasts till today, he's just… after a high you have to come down." Liam gestures vaguely and Niall shakes his head. 

"Some high that was."

"We'll laugh about it someday, I hope. If I can seal this whole situation shut tight enough that not a drop of information leaks to the press. Which, reminds me-" Liam snaps the case on his iPad shut. "I have to go to their media HQ today to sort this out but Niall and Zee have a photoshoot this morning to be at. Just the two of them, thank God. Imagine trying to be wake Harry for this. Anyways, I need a hand from you, Lou."

Louis plunks down on the barstool next to Zayn. "You want me to escort the boys to their photoshoot? Of course."

"No actually, I think they'll be fine with that. I need you to um..stay with Harry."

Louis laughs. "Stay with Harry? You don't think he's a little old for a babysitter?"

"I wouldn't usually but after these episodes that he has, he always comes crashing down hard. Like _hard_. I'd feel better if I knew someone was here to make sure he's alright. Make him toast or something."

"He's...I mean, he's fine right? He's not um, crazy or anything? He's not going to hurt... me?"

"Of course not," Liam stows away his iPad in the messenger bag hanging on his chair. A little sadness creases his face. "He never hurts anyone but himself."

-

Liam whisks the boys off not long after that, leaving Louis along in a nearly empty house. It might as well be empty though, Harry's shit company. He hasn't even left his bedroom. 

Louis wishes he was about 10% less empathetic because he'd be able to sit there and watch TV and do absolutely nothing, guilt free but he keeps replaying an image of Harry sitting alone in a dark room realizing no one cares enough to check in on him 

Curse Louis's mother for raising him up proper. It must be so easy to be a dick. Louis pauses the TV and goes into the kitchen, rustling around until he finds a stash of tea in one of the upper cupboards. So America isn't godless after all. Tea prevails. 

It takes him a moment to find a kettle (they do have one, bless) and boil the water, but eventually he takes to the stairs with one mug of tea in his hands. Halfway up he wonders belatedly if this was a naive idea, but it's a bit too late now. The tea's been made. 

Louis doesn't allow himself to pause outside Harry's door because he knows he'll lose whatever streak of kindness has possessed him, instead he pushes straight in. To his surprise, the room's quite minimalistic. Louis isn't exactly sure what he expected, probably something grungier and more angstily loud, but he's met with pleasantly minimal and organized instead. Harry doesn't even have a wardrobe, just two racks laden with neatly hung clothes. It's not a stretch to say the whole place is aesthetically pleasing. 

"What are you doing in my room?"

Louis jumps so high he almost sloshes half the tea out of the cup, but he steels himself just in time. He hadn't registered the silhouette of Harry curled up in his bed. He looks much much smaller like this than he does standing up. 

"Sorry," Louis murmurs. "I wasn't trying to intrude, I just wanted to bring you something to drink. My mum's a nurse and she says a dehydrated brain sees everything a lot worse than it really is so I wanted to, maybe...I dunno, here's the tea." 

Louis sets down the mug on Harry's bedside table, backing away quickly. He'd rather not stay in this dim room with brooding Harry any longer than he has to. 

"I'm not crazy, you know."

Louis freezes in place. He wasn't expecting Harry to anything. He was hoping he'd be asleep quite honestly.

"I'm not psychotic, or delusional or, god forbid, a psychopath."

"I know that," Louis says, consciously unclenching his shoulders. 

Harry lifts his head from the pillow, sending his tumbling curls all over the place. "Really? Because you look like you could piss yourself in fear right now. I'm not going to throttle you for bringing me tea."

"Good."

"Good."

There's an awkward beat of silence that follows. 

"Alright, I'm going back downstairs then."

Harry falls back into his pillow. "Phenomenal."

All in all, that went decently well, Louis muses while jogging back down the stairs. He didn't even get yelled at. A win in every respect. He detours to the kitchen to fix himself jam on toast before hopping the back of the couch and settling into it again. He's halfway through a Top Model rerun episode when his phone chimes with a text alert. He snags it from the table and reads it off. 

**Unknown: more tea?**

Harry, got to be. How'd Harry get his number? Partially to double check but mostly to be annoying, Louis writes back.

**Me: is this Harry?**

A moment's pause; and then-

**Unknown: no this is beyonce, my last housekeeper gave your number before he quit.**

**Unknown: it's harry, prat**

Louis rolls his eyes. What a way to ask politely. He can't think of a clever enough reply so he resigns himself to not egging Harry on and just bringing him tea instead. He prepares a bigger mug this time and doesn’t drag his feet hesitantly up the stairs. This time he’s not worried about being chucked out of the room by a teenager having a psychotic break.

Harry’s still nothing but a lump under the covers when Louis comes in. He knocks on the doorframe. “Tea service for Beyonce.”

Harry rolls over, groaning. “You’re slow in the head, Louis.”

It’s a less than fond comment but Louis decides to focus on the fact that Harry’s been on a week-long streak of calling him ‘Louis’ instead of ‘Lewis’. “How’d you get my number anyways?”

“Liam gave it to all of us,” Harry pushes himself up into a sitting position, the covers pooling around his waist. Louis flicks his eyes nonchalantly over the ink decorating his torso and collarbones, wondering distantly what the meaning behind all of it is, or whether there’s any meaning at all. Harry holds out his hands. “My tea.”

“Right, sorry,” he crosses the room and passes the steaming mug to Harry. In the dim, quiet of the room, Louis feels considerably less intimidated by Harry than he usually would. That also probably has something to do with the fact that Harry looks more like a sleep deprived hospital patient than someone who could inflict any amount of bodily harm. 

“You look a mess,” he informs Harry, nodding at his unruly hair and pallid complexion.

“Oh thanks, I was taken into police custody in the middle of the night and dragged home by my pissed off teenage handler and then given enough Trazodone to knock me out for 12 hours.” Harry narrows his eyes into a glare before sipping his tea.

“Brilliant,” Louis remarks. “Sounds like fun. Er, do you have anywhere to sit in here?” He glances around, noticing the lack of couch or chair or even stool. 

“No,” Harry says shortly. “I make a point not to have guests in my room.”

“Well, good thing I’m less of a guest and more the hired help,” Louis sinks down on the corner of Harry’s bed.

Harry kicks out his leg weakly to push him off but he’s not close enough. “Screw off, I wanted tea and nothing else.”

“Sorry, Liam told me to keep an eye on you and I can’t do that from downstairs.”

“You just were and that was working out perfectly,” Harry grumbles, setting his tea down on the nightstand.

“Yeah well then my guilty conscience got the best of me for not paying you any attention and now I’m here.”

To Louis’s surprise, Harry doesn’t push back any further. He lays back down, fumbling around for the remote control sitting by his tea. “Do you like detective shows?”

“Come again?”

“Detective shows,” Harry flicks on the TV mounted on the opposite wall. “Sherlock BBC.

"Never seen it."

Harry picks up a pillow and lobs it at Louis. "Then sit down."

"I am sitting down!"

"Good, now pay attention. I'm not starting from the first episode but all you need to know is Moriarty is in love with Sherlock and Sherlock's in love with John."

Louis bites back the smile trying to form on his lips. He's never seen Harry speak so casually about something so trivial. "And John?" Louis asks, leaning back so they're effectively laying side by side, but it's a big bed and there has to be at least two feet between them so it's hardly erotic. 

"John? Oh John's straight. That love story is doomed to die."

"Wonderful. Looking forward to it."

Louis is semi glad for the lack of demand for speaking after that. Not that Harry’s horrible to speak to, but he’s dangerously close to cute when he’s quiet. Louis can see now, the truth behind all of those things Liam said to him weeks ago that Louis deemed as excuses for Harry’s behavior. ‘ _He’s not a bad kid, he doesn’t have bad intentions. Life dealt him a rough hand and he’s too young to know how to handle it.’_

Louis flicks his eyes off the screen to glance sidelong at Harry. He tries so hard to make it seem like he’s just that self assured and cocky, but really he just wants to lay in bed unbothered like any other teenager and watch TV without any outward pressure to be anything else. 

They're two episodes in and Louis is too engrossed in the storyline of suspicious giant hound apparitions to realize immediately that Harry fell asleep. It's only ten minutes on when it dawns on him that Harry hasn't moved in awhile, and sure enough, there he is, utterly wiped out. His hair is fanned out over the pillow and his wrist is cast out just enough that it rests in the center of the space between them. 

Louis doesn't like the fleeting urge to take Harry's slender wrist and intertwine their fingers. It's a gentle thought, a fond one even, and he's not fond of Harry. Louis's only objective is to make sure he's not in any immediate danger and besides that, he refuses to get involved. 

Louis rolls onto his back, shutting his eyes to block out the sight of how peaceful and cherubic Harry looks sleeping.

Developing a crush on a drug addled emotionally repressed unstable teenager in the height of his extremely public career is the last thing Louis can handle right now. 

And for that reason, it's extremely unfortunate that Louis was possibly just too slow on the uptake to prevent it from happening anyways. 

-

"Louis? Louis?"

Louis feels himself jerk out of his sleep before he truly wakes up, and when he does he's substantially disoriented. Liam's hovering over him, looking equally, if not more confused. 

"Didn't mean to startle you, sorry we took so long. The boys shoot took ages and ages, my meeting was hardly faster. Um, why are you…" Liam gestures vaguely at the bed. 

Louis lifts his head and glances around. Harry's still passed out a foot or two over, but somewhere along the way his hand went from the space between them to curled lightly on Louis's shoulder, pinky finger almost brushing his cheek. His hands are very warm, Louis doesn't mind it. 

"Yeah, um," Louis blinks, rubbing his eyes. "Dunno really, we were watching TV because I told him I was staying up here just to annoy him and then he fell asleep awhile ago and I guess...I did too. Bit hazy sorry, I don't wake up fast."

"No it's fine, it's fine," Liam waves his hand nonchalantly. "You didn't give him any Trazodone did you? He asks for it all the time when he wants to crash but he's not supposed to have anymore for awhile, I gave him plenty last night."

"Course not," Louis says honestly. "I just brought him tea, nothing else."

"Odd," Liam muses with a frown. "Under normal circumstances he only ever lets Zayn be in the same room while he sleeps. He's bloody paranoid about it, says it gives him sleep paralysis when he knows someone else is there. He must have been dead tired to pass out while you're in the room - er, no offense."

"None taken. Maybe I'm just really boring and non threatening."

Liam cracks a smile. "Not far off from the truth there. C'mon, Miranda's made dinner and she'll have our heads if half of us miss it. We'll let Harry sleep."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Helllooooo, another chapter for u <3
> 
> I had soooo much fun writing this, can you believe we finally get soft Larry 😭   
> Not to burst your bubble but things aren't exactly smooth from here on out, buT we get a little bit of an innocent, gentle moment here to tide you over.   
> Also cheers for slightly more context on the bigger picture of Harry's mental health 🥂
> 
> Hope you enjoyed the chapter, thanks for all the love   
> Xoxoxo Elle


	19. Chapter 19

As October fades into November, Louis is forced to confront the realization that his time working in Los Angeles is slowly drawing towards a close. They’re only set to have Louis on the project till the beginning of December, and after that it’s say goodbye and back to Doncaster.

He misses his family, of course he misses his family, but the truth of the fact that Louis will probably never see any of these boys again after he returns to England is difficult to reconcile with. 

The first week of November hardly any of them have a moment to breath. There’s a film crew in the house all day, six days straight, filming exclusives, home tours and little snippets of interviews. Even Louis gets dragged in and fed a few lines to repeat graciously back to the camera about how much fun he’s had spending with the boys and working on the project as a live in photographer. It’s not altogether lies but he wouldn’t have worded it quite so perkily.

Saturday evening is finally quiet, the crew having cleared out for the weekend and leaving behind an empty sort of stillness. Louis finds himself alone in the kitchen, leaning against the counter contentedly and sipping from a glass of bourbon. He’s not allowed to legally drink here but the boys have a liquor cabinet that’s readily available so he figures no one will complain.

“Lewis.”

Louis glances up, though he hardly needs to see to know it’s Harry who ambled into the room. “How pleasant that you’ve forgotten my name again,” he says dryly.

“I haven’t forgotten, it’s just so much more entertaining to piss you off. Where are the others?”

“Liam and Zayn went out to dinner, Niall’s...I don’t know where he is but I haven’t seen him.”

“Do you often day drink?” Harry nods at the glass in Louis’s hand.

“6pm is hardly day drinking. Besides, that bloody rich coming from the boy who chain smokes all day.”

“I haven’t smoked all week.”

“Yeah because you’ve had a camera crew shoved up your arse. Surprised you haven’t broken into your pot stash since they’ve been gone.” Louis says sourly. He’s not really mad, just sleep deprived and irritable.

“Jesus christ, someone’s got an attitude,” Harry crosses around the island, stopping in front of Louis. “Drinking gives you piss poor conversational skills.” He snatches the glass delicately from Louis’s hand and downs it in one go.

“Oi, that was my drink!”

“I think you’ve had enough.”

“And who are you to tell me that?” Louis raises his hand to shove the other boy’s chest in annoyance, but Harry catches his wrist reflexively. 

“Are you drunk?”

“Of course not. Are...you drunk?”

Harry lowers Louis’s wrist, but doesn’t let go of it. “Hardly, more...bored.” 

His voice lowers with each word and Louis swallows tightly.

“I don’t know why you’re coming to me about that. Go find Niall.”

“Niall won’t give me anything. Niall never got sloppy drunk and blew me in a bathroom."

Louis tugs his wrist away, leaning against the counter. There’s no point in playing dumb with Harry. “That was your idea. What happened to 'no one ever knows about this and we'll never speak of it'?"

Louis really really can’t let this become a recurring thing. He doesn’t have enough restraint for that. 

“Well, I guess I overestimated self control when it comes to having a walking one night stand living in my house.”

“I’m not a walking one night stand,” Louis mutters.

“You’re right, it’s evening, my apologies.”

“You’re such a dick.”

“No, I’ve just had more to drink than I let on,” he pulls Louis in by his shoulders and lowers his head, biting gently at the sensitive skin under his earlobe. A shudder racks through his body, making him intake his breath sharply. All caution goes to the winds, as of now he’d officially do anything to get Harry to bite another hickey into his skin.

“You’re awful,” he mutters, letting Harry drag him by his arm to the staircase. 

“I know.”

“Obnoxious too.”

“I know.” The smirk on Harry’s face is devilish. His self control seems to break as they enter Harry’s bedroom and he swings Louis up, holding him by his waist and kicking the door shut before throwing him on the bed. The same bed Harry slept serenely in just days ago, looking considerably different from the intense, domineering person standing over him now.

"Do you have lube?"

Harry scoffs, pulling his shirt over his head. "Of course I fucking have lube, why would we be here if I didn't?"

Louis lifts his hips to undo his jeans, huffing. "It was just a question."

"We'll don't ask questions, I like it better when you don't talk." Harry knocks Louis's hand away impatiently, taking over yanking his jeans off. Louis winces when the zipper and button drag over his hard on, delivering exactly the wrong kind of friction. Maybe Harry notices because he seems to slow his movements almost imperceptibly.

He goes around the bed, kicking his jeans off and exits Louis's peripheral vision for a moment before returning, condom and lube in hand. 

Louis supposes he really is prepared. 

"Take your shirt off," Harry instructs, dragging Louis closer to him. Instead of pushing Louis's legs open, he drags his knuckles down his thigh and waits for Louis to open up for him, instead of just taking what he wants, which Louis could be reading into it too far, but he distantly acknowledges the respect. 

Louis shifts, letting his legs fall open. It gives Harry complete access to all of him, but that's daunting to think about so he lets his eyes flutter shut instead. 

He's never actually enjoyed the feeling of being fingered open very much, it's always felt so cold and semi-mechanical, but Harry's fingers are warmer than Louis is used to, and he moves them in a way that feels like something more than a preparatory action. Significantly more, jesus christ. Louis arches his back involuntarily when Harry bends his fingers just right. 

Louis realizes foggily that he hasn't had sex in awhile. It's been five minutes and two fingers and he feels halfway towards coming already. 

"Are you okay?"

Louis opens his eyes, glancing down at Harry. "What?"

"I said are you okay? You look like you're about to finish, I haven't even done anything."

"I'm fine," Louis pants, trying to think clearly through Harry pumping his fingers nonchalantly. "I've just- it's been awhile."

Harry's motions falter, slowing down. "You're not a virgin, are you?"

"Of course I'm not a fucking virgin," Louis resists the urge to kick Harry. He would, bity he's pretty sure if he did it would stop him from adding another finger and he really wants another finger. 

"So you're telling me no one's ever fingered you properly, then."

"No. I don't know, I haven't really- fuck," he breaks off shakily when Harry flicks his wrist, hitting his prostate. 

"If they had, you would have remembered it," Harry says with a self satisfied smirk, sliding his fingers out. Louis hears a sound similar to a whine leave his throat at the loss of sensation. He's vaguely aware of Harry putting on the condom, judging by the sound of the wrapper coming off. 

"Stop me if you need to go slower," Harry smirks, returning to Louis's line of vision. "Virgin."

"I am not a virgin," Louis groans. He opens his mouth to say more, but all cognitive processes halt when Harry starts pushing inside. God and he thought the blowjob was a lot to take. He silently thanks Harry for going slowly because, while he's far from a virgin, it's been long enough since he had anything but his own hand that Louis isn't sure he could keep at an aggressive pace. 

When Harry bottoms out he moans quietly in Louis's ear, and all Louis can think is how Harry's sex voice is surprisingly soft and that makes it so much hotter for no sensible reason. 

"Move," Louis whines, his lower lag wrapping around Harry's calf. He chokes on his own breath when Harry pulls out and thrusts back into him, sinking his fingernails into the flesh of his back. 

"Ow," Harry mutters. "When's the last time you trimmed your nails?"

"You're one to talk," Louis manages to get out. "I can feel finger shaped bruises forming on my hip already. 

"Yeah, it's so you can have a commemorative souvenir of the first time someone fucked you and you actually enjoyed it. 

"You're awfully cocky, that's no small claim to-" Louis breaks off mid sentence as Harry thrusts right against his prostate, sending him into another fit or broken moans. Louis is painfully hard, he wants to reach between them and touch himself, but one of his arms is pinned to the bed, and the other is wrapped around Harry, holding him close and Louis likes him there, making little pleasured noises in his ear.

When they don't speak, their bodies move in harmony with each other, a symphony of skin on skin and soft noises of physical content. It's a sickeningly poetic thought to have while being fucked by a teenaged junkie. 

Harry's picked up his pace, each thrust making Louis slide up and down the bed a couple inches. 

"You know," Louis bites back a smirk. "If you come first, technically I'm the one that fucked you."

"Bullshit," Harry pants, biting at Louis's collarbone fleetingly, maybe just to sting him. 

"It's true. If you don't believe me you can finish right now."

"I'd never, I'm a bloody gentleman. Your experience is my utmost priority," he grabs Louis's waist and flips him over, pulling out completely and pushing back when Louis is on his stomach. The angle is completely different and Louis can feel his limbs turn to mush. He can't imagine anything else but the feeling of Harry pushing in and out of him and he doesn't want to. 

Harry reaches underneath him, grabbing his dick and jerking him off sloppily. "Come, Louis."

Louis bites his bottom lip hard instead of replying, and he can feel Harry's movements becoming less controlled, more frantic. 

"Louis, just...finish," Harry pants, his voice shaking with each word. 

"You're just saying that because you don't want to - oh God, fuck " Louis breaks off as his orgasm hits him like a tidal wave, arching his back and sending a string of incoherent moans and profanities out of his mouth. 

It takes him a second before he can ground himself enough to come back down to reality, and when he does Harry's collapsed on top of him, breathing heavily. His breath smells like peppermint, which is unusual, but maybe it's just mouthwash. It smells nice, anyways. Louis dips his fingers curiously down the curve of Harry's spine, feeling the trail of scratches he made there. 

"Sorry about your back," he murmurs. His voice is wrecked, he feels like he could do with a nap now. 

Harry rolls off of him, leaving an unwelcome chill and emptiness behind. "Yeah, it's not the worst I've had." He stands up, wandering towards the bathroom. "I'm going to take a shower. Bye Lewis."

Louis props himself up on his elbows. "Are you fucking serious? You made a mess of me and you're not even going to attempt to clean it up as a nicety? Can I at least get a towel?"

"Yeah, of course," Harry's voice lofts from the bathroom. "They're in the laundry room downstairs."

Louis shakes his head in disbelief. "Prick."

"I'm kidding, Lewis, jesus." Harry pokes his head out of the bathroom, tossing him a hand towel. "You do look a mess though, more so than I could ever fix. You should probably work on that before dinner. We wouldn't want to raise any questions."

With those final parting words of advice, Harry shuts the bathroom door behind him, leaving Louis alone. 

He buries his face in his hands. Oh God what has he gotten himself into. A drunken encounter he allowed himself to excuse away, but a few sips of bourbon is nothing close to justifying this. This was a sober decision, which means Louis has to reconcile with it. 

He's Harry's employee, what was he thinking? Could he get in trouble for this? Surely it's a violation of a million professional protocols. And even if it wasn't, it's a stupid, stupid idea to indulge people like Harry. Addicts, junkies. All he's ever looking for is his next fix, his next distraction. Harry needs help, not casual sex.

Louis's only hope is come December when he leaves here for home. He doesn't like the cowardly feeling it gives him to think of all the problems he's created for himself here that he'll just walk away from, consequence free. Because anything goes in the land of the dolls. 

And that's exactly why he ended up in this situation in the first place.

-

At the very least, Louis is glad that Harry didn't leave any visible marks. He knows because he thoroughly examined his neck in the mirror after fleeing Harry's room for his own. He's fairly confident that no one saw him and they'll both get off Scot free a second time. 

Louis realized belatedly after returning to his room and showering off the guilt of indulging himself with Harry that they've hooked up a grand total of two times now and kissed neither time. It's only weird because Louis has never slept with anyone without kissing them before, but maybe he's had limited experience. Maybe in America the hookup culture doesn't involve kissing. Or maybe it's of pure stubbornness. After all, Harry doesn't like Louis and Louis sure as hell isn't supposed to like him.

If that's the case, Louis will bullheadedly refuse to initiate any sort of kissing and that's the hill he's going to die on. He's getting entirely too comfortable with this whole situation in LA, it's time to put his priorities straight

This is a job, all of it is naught but fleeting and temporary

He doesn't like Harry, he pities him, and there's a difference. He has no reason to like him, but he does have reason to worry about him, just as he'd worry about any kid in Harry's situation.

He's leaving to go home in three weeks tops and none of this matters long term.

Louis's life isn't based here, but he's starting to think it is and that has to end. He'll go home soon, to his family, to his steady job, to his hometown. He'll meet a nice, stable boy who isn't involved in the higher ups of Hollywood and all of this, everything that happens in los angeles, with be nothing but stories he regals his grandkids with one day

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> @ the person who commented an hour ago and asked for a new chapter, to which I replied "maybe tomorrow".... all I can say it I got bored. Turns out you get the chapter now instead 🤪
> 
> Also, find me on tumblr! @isabeljosephineee. I've posted a couple moodboards for the boys in this work on there, it's basically a stan page for my own fic at this point, so if you're a visual as much as I am, head on over there for a bunch of stuff to look at 😌
> 
> Thank you thank you thank you for the comments + kudos. Reading your thoughts literally makes my day, guys. I know the chapter is short but I hope you enjoy nonetheless! Happy holidays, whatever you celebrate 💓💕


	20. Chapter 20

On Sunday they play scrabble. Harry, in pure Harry character, makes a point of not speaking to Louis for a decent amount of time after their rendezvous, but apparently he's gracious enough to set all of that aside, and play group scrabble, per Zayn's request.

Zayn is the only person Harry ever seems inclined to go along with, which must make it nice to be Zayn Malik, but painful for everyone else. Liam in particular probably suffers the brunt of Harry's defiant streak. As of now, Liam's in his office dealing with oncoming waves of preparatory press as the boy's upcoming album and tour announcement drops near. Louis keeps forgetting that's going to be a thing, possibly because he knows he won't be there for it and he tries not to think about the looming imminence of his time here ending. 

He's not leaving now though, now he's grouped 'round a low table with the other three, listening to Zayn and Niall argue over whether or not vibey is a word. 

"You can't just add Y to the end of something and call it a word!" Zayn huffs, aggressively rearranging his tiles in their stand. 

"We use vibey all the time, do we not? All the bloody time! Take the loss, Zee."

"Just because you use a word all the time doesn't make it valid. People use 'ain't' all the time but that's not a word!"

Beside Louis and Zayn, Harry scoots back, leaning against the couch and perching his elbow on Louis's shoulder. Doubtless, it's a meaningless gesture, they're all grouped on the floor together lounging around, but Louis likes the weight of his arm resting there. 

Harry may be ignoring him, but at least he acknowledges Louis's existence still. 

"God, you're boring me. Roll a dice or something, I'm falling asleep. 

"Shut up, Harry!" Niall and Zayn demand synchronously. 

Rolling his eyes, Harry gets to his feet. Louis mourns the loss of his arm only fleetingly. "Alright let me know when you've settled this then."

"Where are you going?" Niall calls after him, annoyed. 

"Lunch."

"You never eat lunch!"

"Lunch," Harry repeats emphatically, his voice lofting down the hall. 

Niall shrugs. "If he's getting lunch I am too."

"Niall!" Zayn complains. "He left because of you!"

"He left because of us," Niall retorts loftily. "Besides, I can't be expected to focus on an empty stomach. That's detrimental to my health. Deuces."

"Prick!" Zayn calls after him. He lowers his voice to a mutter. "I love him, but utter prick."

Louis smirks, stretching his legs out in front of him. "Harry or Niall?"

"Both of them, honestly. Cigarette?"

Louis shakes his head. "I'm good, thanks."

Zayn sets the back down on the table between them and wiggles a lighter out of his pocket, gearing up to light it, when his phone rings. "ugh!" He exclaims melodramatically. "There goes my lunch. Hello?"

Louis can't hear who's on the other end of the line, but he watches as Zayn's face goes from pleasant frigidly cold in a matter of seconds. 

"How did you get my number? It's a new fucking phone" 

There's a lot of indiscernible chatter from whoever's called him, and Zayn shakes his head. "No, I can't. You shouldn't have called ...no, speak with him...then stop trying, Gemma. Take the hint... he's not home anyways, I'm sorry, I can't. Bad time...look, I've got to go. Don't call again."

Zayn hangs up the phone and tosses it down on the couch in distaste, snatching up his cigarette and lighting it. 

"Who was that?" Louis prods, curious. 

Zayn glances sidelong at him, blowing smoke into the air. "No one."

Louis wordlessly cocks one eyebrow, making Zayn shift uncomfortably. He takes another drag on his cigarette and sighs. 

"Fine, it was Harry's sister."

"Harry has a sister?"

"Yeah and he'd bloody strangle me if he knew I told you."

"I thought he didn't have a family or something?" Louis questions. 

"He doesn't. They're nothing to him, he doesn't speak to them, but Gemma...she won't give up."

Louis frowns. "She must care about him a lot. Why would he...run from that?"

Broodingly, Zayn blows another smoke cloud, mussing his hair. "God, It's not my place to say anything, Lou. I don't know the whole story, even now. He doesn't like to talk about it, not to anyone. All I know is he had some fucked up stuff happen to him and he ended up blaming his family. And then he came to LA and things hardly got easier and he just...let himself go off the rails. He has good days and bad days but for the most part, I don't think he's really there anymore. He just lets things happen, good and bad, like he doesn't even truly experience it, he just watches. And it fucking hurts to see him get worse, Louis. I love him, we all love him."

Zayn's eyes look glossy with tears. He ducks away discreetly, under the pretense of blowing out another cloud of smoke, and wipes them away. 

"He's lucky to have you," Louis says gently, trying to offer some sort of comfort. "I'm sure he loves you too."

"He'd better. The shit I've dealt with for him…" Zayn stubs out his cigarette, a wry smile appearing on his lips. "You know, we used to sleep together."

"What?" Louis sits up straight. "What about Liam?"

"Before Li was in the picture of course," Zayn waves his hand, unconcerned. "Because Harry and I were both young and really stupid and completely emotionally deprived, it just felt like the thing we were supposed to do. Have sex. So we did, for like three months, but it didn't feel right after a while. I don't think either of us enjoyed the sex, but we didn't stop until we came to the conclusion that the bit we liked was falling asleep next to someone afterwards." Zayn laughs, shaking his head at the memory even as the forgotten tears cling to his eyelashes.

"So we started literally sleeping together after that. No funny business, just actual sleep so we didn't have to be alone. And then Liam came along and I started sleeping with him - literally and figuratively - and Harry slept alone after that. God knows he has plenty of sex but he refuses to let anyone stay the night. No idea why."

"Maybe he's in love with you," Louis suggests, laughing. "You broke his heart."

"God no. Not a chance, he's like my brother."

"You just said you had sex with him-"

"Yes, but it was bad sex. Objectively it should have been good, but we could never be like that, so it didn't work."

"Whatever you say incest-boy."

"Oh fuck off," Zayn tosses the stubbed out cigarette butt at Louis. "This is why I don't open up to people, they mock me!"

"It's out of love, it's out of love," Louis insists, kicking Zayn off of him. "Truce!"

"So now you love me?" Zayn asks, fishing out a new cigarette. 

Louis draws his knees up to his chest, gazing out of the window wistfully. "I'll just say that I'll be sad to leave here soon."

"Yeah," Zayn sighs. "It won't be the same here without you sticking a camera in our face periodically. You sure don't want a smoke?"

"Oh fuck it, hand it over."

\---

The third time Louis lets Harry drag him away and have him is four days after that, and at that point Louis is forced to face the facts: once is an incident. Twice is a mistake. Three times is a pattern. 

And this has to be a thing now, because that's the way this stuff works out. It's all Louis can think about. How royally he fucked up here, how messy he made everything.

Usually Louis uses his mother as a gauge for how badly he fucked up. Considering that he can't even begin to know how to explain ' _hey mum, I started sleeping with my underaged emotionally vacant employer and now I have no idea how to handle myself_ ' he's pretty sure he's crossed a line. 

\---

Saturday finds him on his stomach, in Harry's bed, face pressed into the pillows while Harry moves in and out of him with decreasing self control. 

Louis is glad he can't see Harry and Harry can't see him because he'd really rather have what he wants and get it over with. He enjoys it - of course he enjoys it, Harry's obnoxiously the best he's ever had - but today he's particularly bitter. He already resents letting himself go to Harry, lingering in his room until he took the hint, letting Harry undress him, touch him until he whines that he wants to be fucked. Louis let all of it happen. 

"You know, I came here to take cute little pictures of you," Louis huffs, turning his head to the side so he can breathe. 

Harry laughs breathlessly, digging his fingernails into Louis's hip. "Grab your camera, Louis. I'm sure this is exactly what Teen Vogue wants for their exclusive."

Louis rolls his eyes at the humorless sarcasm. "Obviously now isn't a good time, but don't you just find it ironic that - ah!" He breaks off, crying out softly as Harry changes the angle he's hitting at. Whether or not it was intentional, it shuts Louis up until he starts falling to pieces, biting back all the noises his wants to make because he's too proud to give him the satisfaction. He comes biting down on the pillow and Harry follows suit moments later, collapsing on Louis's back to catch his breath. 

It would be so easy, Louis thinks, to indulge himself, to lay under Harry's body until he gets up and let himself sink into the scent of clean sweat and warm breath, but he's already relinquished enough of his dignity this month to justify that. 

"Get off," Louis grumbles, shoving Harry away and sliding off the bed. Harry rolls up, dragging a sheet over his midsection. 

"Moody, Louis?"

"Hardly," Louis says sourly, scanning the room for his boxers and putting them back on. "I have things to do."

Harry scoffs. "If you had things to do I doubt you would have appeared in my bedroom trying to get laid."

Louis pulls his sweatpants on aggressively, stamping his feet down in turn. "You're such a dick Harry, I can't believe I keep falling for your bullshit."

Harry sits up. "Falling for my bullshit?"

"Yes, falling for your bullshit!" Louis snaps. "You're perfectly cordial when you come to pull me knowing damn well you're going to get it and then as soon as you've had what you want, you're back to being a regular douchebag bag and ignore me till you get horny again. That's crap and I fall for it every time."

"First of all, you came to me-"

"Today. Today I came to you."

"-Secondly, you're not falling for anything," Harry hisses. "I don't pretend to be anything I'm not, I don't have any front up about all of this. I'm a toxic coping mechanism at best and it's not me you're mad at. You're pissed off at the fact that you keep making choices you don't want to make because you don't have the self control to restrain yourself. I get it, I'm the shitty option, I'm the bad choice, I always am, but don't fucking blame me for your own piss poor impulse control."

"You make everything difficult and then wonder why you're the option nobody wants," Louis snatches his shirt off the foot of the bed and stalks out of the room, not sparing a glance back at Harry. 

\---

Sunday, Louis feels shitty. It didn't take extremely long to feel remorse for his biting parting remark at Harry, but the levelheadedness needed to apologize takes longer to kick in. It doesn't help matters that Harry's shut himself in his room again, locked doors and all. 

Inconspicuously, Louis attempts to garner information from Zayn about why Harry's gone cold again, but he's wholly unhelpful, brushing away the concern by telling Louis Harry gets 'burnt out' frequently and keeps to himself awhile. 

It's hardly a satisfactory answer but Louis can't press much further without revealing his possible involvement in the cause of Harry's reclusivity. 

Harry wouldn't really be mad at him for saying that, would he? The two of them aren't on good terms, they say stupid things to each other, it doesn't...it doesn't mean anything. 

But he was angry. And words hit differently in anger. 

Louis is all but wallowing in overthinking and self pity when Liam and Zayn force him outside into the pool with them. Either they can see his upset state and they're working double time to try and pull him out of it, or they're completely oblivious, but either way, Louis begrudgingly changes into swim trunks and joins them in the water. He watches Niall practice his cannon balls and backflips for a while until Zayn ropes him into playing chicken fight. They pair up, Niall on Louis's shoulders and Zayn on Liam's and start a match. 

Quite frankly, Niall and Louis are leaps and bounds better than the other two. Liam is too timid and concerned with Zayn getting hurt rather than taking Niall down. Not that Louis is complaining about his shared 13 in a row winning streak.

When the sun starts to set, Liam and Zayn make their various excuses 'Hungry. Needs a moment to catch their breath. Grab a drink of water' and sneak off together, entirely convincingly not to go have sex. 

Niall stays awhile longer but evidently grows bored of the lack of two player pool games and informs Louis he's going to take a shower and play FIFA awhile. Louis murmurs something about joining later, but as he climbs out of the pool he realizes he'd rather take dinner in his bedroom watching movies in his PJs. That used to be a weekend thing back in Doncaster for him but he's hardly had the time and headspace for it now. 

Louis stops in the kitchen on his way upstairs, grabbing a plate of enchiladas and red rice from the cook, Miranda and giving her thanks before heading up to his room. 

He plays through the entirety of Kingsmen 1 and half of Kingsmen 2 on the massive slide out television, pausing only to clear his dishes away to the bedside table. Out of the corner of his eye, Louis sees Harry slip out of the balcony doors and shuffle down into the yard. He wouldn't put much thought into it, but he knows Harry's upset about something, maybe him, and it's a bit odd anyways to be sneaking out into full darkness when no one is around. 

Louis sits back on his bed, taking up the remote again. He's probably out for some fresh air, god knows he probably needs it, locking himself up all day. 

Louis finishes the movie, but to his dismay, only half his brain watches it. The other half is keeping watch on the balcony door across the hall, waiting for Harry to come back in. 

It's nearing 1am. He's not going outside to find Harry.

But it's nearing 1am and Harry is outside. Alone. For god knows what. And he's fucking bipolar or whatever, what if he's gone and run away again and nobody is any the wiser?

With as much huffing as Louis can justify, he slips out of his bed and pads across the hall, unlatching the door and heading out onto the balcony. Unsurprising, Harry's not there, he used the staircase down into the grass. Louis isn't wearing shoes, but it's not exactly like the weather in LA is temperamental or wet. He shuffles across the grass, halfway worried, halfway annoyed. He shouldn't even be out here, he could be going to sleep now. 

At first all Louis can hear is crickets and the low rumble of the pool filter, but as he nears Zayn's rose garden, he can hear muffled singing. 

"Twinkle twinkle little star, how I wonder what you are, up above the world so high...like a diamond in the sky…"

Harry's laying flat on his back in the grass, reaching up into the roses and plucking off petals gently, letting them flutter down onto him. He jerks his gaze over to Louis as soon as he notices him. 

"Hi." Louis is surprised how how soft his own voice is. Harry blinks his eyes, sleepy and unfocused. 

"Well if it isn't the boy who thinks I'm not worth shit," he mumbles, turning his face back to look up at the inky black sky. 

"That's not what I said," Louis's throat tightens, but even then he knows it doesn't matter. The exact words mean nothing if the intention in that moment was the same. He steps closer, hesitantly and Harry sighs. 

"The star was alone, you know."

"Which star?"

"The one in the song. He was flying high, above everyone else, and he didn't know how to come down."

"Does he want to come down?" Louis asks, stepping still closer. 

Harry closes his eyes, and Louis can see teardrops clinging to his eyelashes, sparkling in the fragments of light they catch. "He hates it up there, but he has no one to come down to."

Louis sinks down into the grass, crossing his legs. His knee brushes against Harry's waist. "Are you the star?"

"Of course I'm the star," Harry whispers, turning his face away. Louis wonders if he does it so Louis won't see the tears making their way down his cheeks. 

Louis reaches out tentatively, hoping not to startle him, and pulls Harry's hand into his lap, intertwining their fingers together. He's warm, Louis is always surprised at how warm Harry is. It's as if, no matter how hard he tries, his skin can't help but betray how alive he is. 

"Why are you here?" Harry asks hollowly, wiping his eyes with the backs of his hands. 

"Because nobody else is," Louis says truthfully. "Why did you leave the house at midnight? You're not going to run away again are you?"

"No," Harry says quietly. "I'm not having an _episode_ , I'm just high."

"Jesus, Harry, what are you taking at _midnight_?"

"All day," Harry corrects. "All day. Painkillers." His eyes flutter shut and he smiles. "I don't even know anything anymore, I'm not thinking. I don't know why I...have this many fingers or..what color the sky is or...if you're even here."

"I'm here," Louis tells him, pressing his thumb into the palm of Harry's hand, still wrapped in his own. "Why painkillers?"

"Because I don't want to think!" Harry tears his hand away from Louis, sitting up. "My sister always wants something from me, she doesn't think I should have left, she calls me and she calls me because I'll never get her out of my life. I told her I wasn't going back to that, it's too little too late. She wasn't there when I needed her, nobody was there when I needed them. I don't want to think about that! 

Harry's chest starts to rise and fall rapidly, his breathing becoming erratic instead of even. 

Louis puts his hand in Harry's sternum, like he would when one of his littlest sisters starts to have a fit. "Slow down, Harry."

"I can't." Harry presses his face into his drawn up knees, digging his fingernails into his arms. "If I knew how to slow down I wouldn't be here, I wouldn't be like this I wouldn't be sitting in a garden crying because I can't fucking handle myself."

Louis has never had a panic attack that he can remember, but he saw his mum have one once. He was little, and it frightened him, because he didn't know what to do. He still doesn't, really, but he's not scared anymore. 

"You don't have to stop everything, just slow down. Slow down and everything else will slow down, I promise" he pushes Harry back gently, laying him back down in the grass, but this time Louis lays beside him. Harry squeezes his eyes shut, still trembling and breathing shakily. "If you breath it only lasts for a moment."

Louis doesn't know how he got like this. Laying in the grass at 1am, trying to pull Harry back from the edge of his own thoughts, but he doesn't feel like he should be somewhere else. He owes Harry this, at least. For what he said yesterday. 

He reaches his hand up, brushing Harry's hair out of his face gently. "Tell me what it was like, before you went into the sky to become a star."

Harry rolls onto his side, facing Louis. His eyes are still shut tight, but his breathing is returning to normal. "I lived in Holmes Chapel, in England, before I came here," he whispers, shaky, like he's starting a sentence and hoping he finds the rest along the way. "I always wanted to act so I was in all the school plays and things."

Harry's expression softens almost imperceptibly, a ghost of a genuine smile gracing his face, only for a moment. 

"I was so shit. My biggest role was Villager #4 or something. But I loved it anyway, always wanted to be the center of attention. I don't think anyone expected I'd amount to anything, really. Not anything special. But it didn't matter to me, not then. I just wanted to give people a laugh. When I was nine, I got cast as a talking carrot…"

Harry talks for a long time. Longer than Louis expected he would, but he's glad to see it. The boy behind the enigma. None of his stories go past 11 or 12, he just murmurs anecdotes of his early childhood. Trivial things, nothing really important or even memorable if Louis is being honest. Nothing Harry is saying is sticking in his mind, but he's tired, and the sound of the other boy's low drawl is calming. 

Drowsily, Louis gets the feeling won't be remembered or spoken about tomorrow. But he's here now. And he helped Harry whether Harry remembers it or not. And that can be enough. 

Only once Louis has started to doze off, does he realize Harry's voice has faded out. He opens his eyes and finds that Harry's gone still in the grass next to him, arm tucked under his head, breathing evenly. And god is it tempting to move a little closer, find the warmth of his body, and go back to sleep. 

But Louis can't allow them to sleep in the grass. That'd hardly be comfortable to wake up to. Even now he's getting cold and his shoulder is beginning to ache uncomfortably. He reaches out and shakes Harry's arm gently. 

"Get up, we should go inside.",

Harry stirs, whining softly in the back of his throat. "I can't."

"No, come on, we have to." Louis starts to sit up and Harry grabs his wrist, holding him. 

"Don't go."

Louis softens. "It's better inside, c'mon."

"I can't. I mean I really can't. I can't feel my feet." Harry moans, rolling onto his back. 

"I'll help you walk, stand up." 

Louis pulls Harry to his feet, wrapping the younger boy's arm around his shoulder and shuffling them both towards the staircase up to the balcony door. Harry's head leans against Louis's sleepily. 

"I won't go back to sleep," he murmurs quietly. 

"Why not?"

"I can't."

"Because you can't feel your feet?"

"Because I don't want to be alone. The grass," he whimpers. "We could have slept just once in the grass."

"The grass makes my shoulders hurt," Louis tells him. "It was never a viable option. They manage to stumble up the stairs and into Harry's room without making much noise, which Louis considers impressive. He tips Harry into his bed, retreating away and pausing in the doorframe. Harry looks much smaller by himself, laying dejectedly in the center of the bed. 

"I don't want to be alone" he repeats. "Please."

Louis rubs his forehead. He's so fucking tired, he doesn't want to go to his room and lay awake thinking about Harry sitting in here alone, scared of his own mind. He just wants pillows and sleep. God damnit. 

Louis walks back into the room, unzipping his jeans and kicking them off. Harry's seen him naked so it's not like that's a difficult task. He crosses over, climbing into the bed and collapsing next to Harry. It's not like last time when they watched TV and cat napped three feet apart, no. This time Louis is fucking cold and he drags Harry closer, wrapping around him like a clinging child to their favorite plushie. Harry doesn't object, doesn't even try to resist. If anything, he makes a satisfied noise in the back of his throat, though honestly that could have been Louis. He doesn't think about it too much. 

He brings his hand up to Harry's long, tangled curls and pulls his fingers through them distractedly. It's the same motion he'd do to a lapdog, or even one of his sisters, but Harry hums softly with each brush through. And this time Louis knows it's definitely Harry making that sound. 

"My mum used to comb my hair like that," Harry says after a while, so soft he can barely be heard. 

Louis wants to ask why she stopped. Why he never talks about her anymore, why she's not here comforting her own child instead of Louis. But none of those questions are appropriate, nor are they particularly calming, so he settles for continuing the motion through Harry's hair. 

"Then I'll keep going. Go to sleep, Harry

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can we just talk about the fact that i wrote this entire chapter between breaks and quiet moments at work. No idea how I pulled that off but I was SOOO excited to write that particular scene in the garden with Harry and Louis. I think it's so perfect and delicate and for once we see the real Harry, not the masked and closed off Harry. 
> 
> I'm gonna post a list of songs on my tumblr that I listen to constantly while writing this so you guys can (if you want) see what the inside of my head looks like when I write OR alternately I'll post the songs that I connect to each of the boys and maybe you can get into *their* headspace if that sounds cooler. Idk, comment what you'd rather see. 
> 
> Happy holidays, sending hugs to all of you that read/comment/kudos, that makes me smile daily and I reallllly hope you enjoyed this chapter <3 <3


	21. Chapter 21

Louis wakes up stiff, likely from the half sleeping in the grass for an hour. The clock on the nightstand says it's just past 8am. So he got a solid six hours sleep. Fantastic.

Harry is all but squashed against Louis's chest, which is far less disgruntling. Louis didn't really expect him to be here till morning, and even if he wakes up pissed and refuses to speak for days, it's conceivably worth it. 

He's pretty, but he's really terribly cute when he sleeps squishily like this. It makes Louis sulk, brooding about how fleetingly he gets to see this side of Harry. Harry, who sleeps half on top of Louis with his hand up the back of his shirt, and his tumbled curls spilling into Louis's face. The bed smells like him, the room smells like him. 

Louis wants to freeze time. Make it last longer. 

The clock hits 8:30 before Harry rolls and sits up, somewhat rapidly. He looks around, pushing his hair back and groaning.

"Jesus christ, fuck, I have a headache."

Louis sits up with him, creasing his brow. "Yeah, last night you-"

"Don't," Harry seems to flinch away from him. He kicks back the covers and gets to his feet. "Don't. I don't want...I'm, I'm going to shower. Just, use my bathroom if you want, I don't really care, just...whatever."

He pushes his hair back, looking plagued, and leaves the room in a hurry. 

Louis buries his face in his hands. Exactly as he predicted, the pleasant moments are shattered quickly and replaced with brooding. The only thing he can look forwards to now is a week of silent treatment from Harry. 

Louis dresses reluctantly and goes downstairs for breakfast, vowing to say nothing about last night unless he's asked directly. He doesn't know why, Louis hates keeping secrets, but the entirety of the situation feels so...touchy. The less addressing he has to do, the better. 

The other boys are sitting grouped around the coffee table in the living room. Louis has no idea what the obsession is with not sitting in actual chairs here is, but he swears that half the group is sitting on the floor or table at any given time. 

Louis sinks down on the couch, toeing Niall out of the way so he has leg room. 

"Good night?" Liam asks, glancing up at him. He's got one arm draped around Zayn and the other tapping away at his computer. 

Louis blows his fringe off of his forehead huffily. "It was alright. You?"

Liam shrugs. "Fine, could be better. This one tosses and turns all night."

"You didn't turn the A/C on," Zayn says defensively. "It was hot as hell in there. But you were cold and you wanted the covers pulled up."

"This is why being single is so fucking blessed," Niall says amiably. He's hunched over the coffee table, painting those little wooden children's ornaments you can buy at a drugstore for cheap. "No one to bicker over temperatures with, no one to share the blankets with...it's ideal, isn't it Louis? We win."

Privately, Louis thinks back to waking up practically wrapped in Harry's comforter with him and concedes regretfully that even if Harry had requested the thermostat stay at a sweltering 95° he'd probably do it again. 

"Yeah, we win," he agrees untruthfully. "Erm, why are you painting Christmas ornaments?"

Niall looks back at him, disgusted. "Why aren't you painting Christmas ornaments?"

"Because it's barely mid-November?"

"Weak. A pathetic excuse if you ask me."

"Niall, I'm not even going to be here for Christmas."

Niall's shoulders droop noticeably. "Oh fuck. Yeah I guess." 

He goes back to painting his decorations after that, though with less enthusiasm. 

Louis leans his back onto the couch, staring at the ceiling dejectedly. Harry's probably pissed at him. Probably just as pissed as he was yesterday before they fell asleep in the grass together. Back at square one, Louis supposes. 

Zayn and Liam bickering softly provide the backing track to Louis's thoughts screening through his head until Liam catches his attention by noting something audibly louder than the rest. 

"You look neat."

Louis sits up, glancing around to see who he's referring to, only to find that Harry's walked in. He wasn't exactly expecting to see Hardy's face again today. Truth be told, he does look neat. His hair's damp, pulled back into a bun at the top of his head, and he's wearing blue jeans and a white T-shirt. He looks classically simple, like the lover interest in a 1950s romcom. 

"Showered," Harry says simply. He crosses over to the couch and sits next to Louis. Not right against him, but close enough that he couldn't dare pretend not to notice Louis's presence.

"I was thinking of ordering sushi. Does anyone else want in? Do you want sushi, Louis?"

Louis glances over, shocked at the direct address. "Me?"

"No, the Louis sitting behind you," Harry says dryly. "Yes, you."

"I - yeah, sushi would be great."

"Great," Harry slides his phone out of his pocket. "If I order now it should be here in about 20 minutes."

"Fantastic," Louis says faintly, facing front again. Harry, on speaking terms with him in front of everyone else. Imagine that.

The room falls quiet again, an easy sort of calm as everyone else is engrossed in their own personal tasks. If Zayn can call 'being coddled by Liam' a task. Liam's pulled him into his lap and periodically kisses the back of Zayn's head fondly in between squinting at his laptop. 

Louis sullenly thinks about how comforting it must be to have someone to go to at any time like that. Someone who's body is as familiar and comforting as your own. He didn't think himself a relationship person, truth be told he's never been in a serious one. Maybe he's getting old. 

Liam shuts his laptop with a snap, startling Louis, and turns to the side to face the couch. 

"Okay lads, listen up."

"Lads," Zayn echoes mockingly. 

"Lads and you, babe," Liam corrects, hugging his boyfriend closer. "Let's chat."

"About?"

"Tour."

"Oh yeah, I keep forgetting we're going on tour," Niall murmurs curiously, still bent over his painting.

"Speak for yourself, I'm fucking nervous," Zayn groans. "Do you have any idea how many tickets we've sold?"

"Too many to be fucking honest, who knew there was such a demand to see Harry sing."

Harry stretches out his foot to kick Niall's shoulder. "Fuck off."

Rubbing his temples, Liam sighs. "Stay on task please. December 26th we leave for the hotel right next to MSG and after that, we're down to San Francisco and then out of California for the rest of the year and then some. You need to start thinking about what you're going to pack, and try to travel light because tour busses aren't huge. Obviously your stage clothes will be transported separately. Um…" Liam scratches his hair, casting a glance at his phone. "Oh yeah, your tour managers wanted me to remind you that they're filming the MSG night for the documentary so I suppose be on your best behavior for that."

"So no pantsing anyone? Boo," Niall grumbles. 

"Oh and Harry, they want to cut your hair, mate."

Louis glances over at Harry, who raises his fingertips to his drawn up hair, annoyed. 

"No."

"No?" Liam repeats, already looking stressed. 

"No," Harry says calmly. "I won't let them cut it."

"Haz," Liam makes a pained face. "It's getting a bit long anyways isn't it? You're bound to trim it sooner or later. It'll be more convenient anyways."

"Is that what they told you? That they went to cut it for convenience?" Harry raises an eyebrow coolly. 

"Well, no but-"

"What'd they say then, Liam? What's the reason?"

"Because it looks feminine, but honestly, Harry, you don't have to take everything they say personally."

"Well if they're directing it personally at me..." Harry crosses his arms, bumping his elbow against Louis's. 

"You really won't cut it?" Liam sighs. 

"No."

"What if they make you?"

Harry leans forwards, the whole side of his body pushing against Louis's when he shifts, and narrows his eyes. "If they try to make me, I will unbelievably fuck shit up. They cannot control me and it's time they remembered that "

"Harry please don't do this now...it's so dramatic."

"Tell them, Li, tell them that I will literally create the biggest teen scandal of this century. I will take a video of myself snorting a line of coke off of Zayn's naked body and plaster it onto social media."

"Blur out my dick, won't you?" Zayn requests cheekily. 

"You'd never do that," Liam says, but he's a long shot from sounding confident.

"I'll do it," Harry leans back into couch, shrugging. "You say whatever now but I'll do it." 

He doesn't take his eyes off Liam, keeping him fixed with an intense gaze until the older boy crumbles. 

"Fine. No haircuts, off the table then. You better be fucking angelic for me after this, Harry. It's going to be a bitch to get them to stand down about the hair."

\---

Even though it's Monday, they don't go onto the set, and that's fine by Louis. The air in the house today feels neutral for once. Pleasant even. The windows in the living room are open, letting a breeze float through. Niall's playing solo twister, but instead of a spinning board, Harry and Zayn are calling out increasingly absurd positions to contort into. 

On the couch with his computer, Liam looks torn between being annoyed at the noise and amused at them all. 

Even then, they get bored of it after awhile and Niall drags himself over to Liam, flopping down onto him. 

"Jesus Niall I'm trying to work here, you know."

"I'm bored," he moans. "The other boys are boring me."

"Oi," Harry mutters under his breath. "Prick."

"Sorry, it's true. You should take us out, Liam," Niall wheedles. "Give Louis the LA tour. We hardly do anything fun."

"I've really got to work," Liam sighs. "Maybe if Harry hadn't given me crap about the hair…"

"Please," Harry scoffs. "How much hassle can hair be?"

"Much," Liam says firmly, narrowing his eyes. "Go to the pool or something."

"We're always in the pool," Zayn complains, joining Niall. "We should go out. Not even clubbing, just _anything_?"

"I can't take you, love."

Niall sits up, his eyes alight. "What if Zayn takes us? We can take the car and go and leave the house all empty and quiet for you."

Liam seems enticed by keyword quiet. He chews on his lip. "All of you, out without me? Sounds dangerous."

"Louis would never let anything happen to us, right Lou?"

"Sure," Louis shrugs. "Of course."

"We'll go shopping or something, to the observatory.. something fun."

Liam still looks on the fence. "I don't know…"

"We can handle a few hours alone, Li. Don't you trust my driving anyways?" Zayn scoots in close to his boyfriend, fiddling with his hair. 

"Of course I do."

"Then it's settled!" Niall claps his hands together. "And Louis can take pictures and whatever. Nice pictures, since we'll all be pleasant tourists for the day."

"That's true," Liam concedes. "Fine, but if anything goes askew I'm never letting any of you out of my sight again."

\--- 

As it turns out, Zayn is actually a fairly responsible driver. He puts on sunglasses to shade his eyes from the sweltering sun that the convertible provides no shade from and looks back at Louis and Niall in the rear seats. 

"Buckle up, kids. You too, Haz.'

"I'm already buckled," Harry says mildly. "I'm responsible."

"Good boy," Zayn pats Harry's arm complacently and starts the car. 

Louis leans forwards, resting his chin on the back of Zayn's seat so he can out ahead of them. Though the perk of that is also having a clear view of Harry. Harry who's changed into denim shorts and shirt sleeve linen button up, buttoned only halfway. It leaves the tattoos on his collarbones and chest displayed, and although it's highly inappropriate at this moment, Louis wonders when they'll have sex again. There's no one more attractive in all of Los Angeles. 

He can't be thinking about this shit all the time, there's no way this is going to last. Harry's going to take a turn for the worst and he'll forget Louis ever existed fleetingly in his life once. 

But that's then and right here is now. Now is full of laughter because all four of them are free just for a moment and the day is theirs. 

True to Niall's word, Louis does take a substantial amount of pictures to document their excursion. They drive up to Griffith observatory, and then it gets too hot and sweaty they return to ground level and spend a couple hours sneaking around in overlarge sunglasses inconspicuously to avoid being recognized. Once it becomes too difficult, they abandon ship and drive to a tiny Mom-And-Pop ice cream shop away from crowds of people, and sit on the hood of the car to eat their sweets. 

"Caramel and lemon, that's a strange combination," Niall muses, eyeing Harry's bowl. He opted for a bowl instead of a cone, in true edgy fashion. 

"It's good," Harry insists, offering a spoonful to Niall, who takes it with gusto. He smacks his lips thoughtfully.

"Hmm, it's alright. Not bad."

"Well I like it," Harry informs them, leaning over Zayn towards Louis. "You have a bite."

Louis opens his mouth, letting Harry spoon him a bit of ice cream and trying not to smile. It's not everyday you get spoon fed by a Disney star.

"I think it's quite nice, actually. Niall's got childish taste buds."

"Thank you!" Harry sighs, exasperatedly returning to his ice cream. 

"Lads, he ordered birthday cake ice cream," Zayn grins. "Did you expect sophisticated taste?"

"Oi, didn't realize it was bully Niall day," the blond grumbles. "Cut me some slack, I've been on my feet all day. Needed some comfort food. Oh food! That's what we need, real food. I imagine Harry's blood sugar's getting low, he's going to start to get cranky here soon."

"Oh shut up," Harry slaps at the other boy.

Zayn sets down his napkin and casts a glance at his watch. "Honestly, we should head home soon anyways, Liam will start wondering where we are soon."

"Tell him we're off having a god damn blast," Niall suggests. 

"We did have a blast. And now it's time to call it a day and go home. To Miranda, and the dinner she's made. You'd never let down Miranda, c'mon."

"You're right," Niall perks up, sliding off the hood of the car and making a beeline for shotgun. "I would never do that."

-

Dinner is a quiet affair. This is the first evening Louis can genuinely say everything is peaceful within the walls of their Disney star mansion. Liam asks what they did all afternoon and they share stories and joke cordially. It feels...happy, it feels, well, like a family for once. 

When they've finished eating Zayn tugs Louis and Harry to the upstairs balcony to smoke, which Liam only shakes his head wearily at. 

It's cool outside, in stark contrast to the bloody intense heat from earlier, and a breeze drifts through, ruffling Louis's hair pleasantly. He leans back in his deck chair sleepily, watching Zayn lean over and blow smoke into Harry's mouth. 

Zayn's the only one who can ever make Harry smile. A real smile, with all of his perfectly straight teeth. It changes his face, Louis thinks. Makes him look much less sharp around the edges. 

Louis wonders sometimes what it would be like to be Zayn. He gets to know Harry inside and out, he gets to share his whole life with Liam, who's honestly probably his soulmate. It just has to be nice to have those things. 

Louis stubs out his cigarette as he starts to get drowsy and quietly wishes the other two goodnight before stepping inside. The living room door is open and as Louis passes by it on the way to the stairs, he catches a glimpse of Liam sat at the table with his computer and Niall sprawled on the floor nearby. They're chatting in low voices and for some reason it gives Louis the same safe feeling that lingers in his early early memory when he would lay awake at night and listen to his parents talk softly after they thought he'd nodded off. 

In his room, Louis debates showering or putting it off till the morning. It’s not that he hates showers, he actually loves them once he’s in there, but it’s the action of actually physically going and getting in the shower that always irks him. 

After grudging hesitation, Louis decides he'll sleep better knowing he's freshly cleaned. 

After a proper hair washing and moisturizing, Louis tosses on his finest sweats and hops into his over large bed. He's going to miss this bed, god damnit. And the massive flat screen TV, he'll miss that too. Louis lets an episode of Grey's Anatomy run for a while while he scrolls through his phone, but the dramatic background noise starts to become over the top after a bit and he switches his lights off and gets under the covers instead. 

His social media is dead, nothing seems to be happening recently. The only noteworthy thing is that Niall posted a picture of the four of them sitting on the hood of the car holding their melting ice cream cones and smiling. It's a nice photo, they really do look happy in it. He hits like, but refrains from commenting. Louis secretly lives in fear of somebody finding out he's involved with the boys and leading a swarm of overzealous teenagers after him. He's seen the fandom first-hand, he wants no part in that madness. 

Luckily, because a lot of the filming they're doing now is under wraps, nobody's tracked Louis down yet. All is right in that aspect. 

With the knowledge that nothing is happening online and none of his friends or family from home are awake just now, Louis sets his phone on the nightstand and rolls onto his back. 11pm. An ideal time to go to sleep. He feels a little restless, but that will probably ebb away once he gets comfortable. 

Louis rolls onto his side. And then his stomach. And that doesn't work either, so he carefully peels down the comforter, hoping to cool down a bit, and rearranges his pillows neatly, making the perfect nest for his head. Now that he can sleep with. Louis lets his eyes drift shut and his mind wander. He's thinking distantly a FIFA game he played this week, when his phone buzzes on the night table. He reaches behind him, fumbling to grab it, and brings it to the front. Louis has to squint at the brightness to read the text on the screen. 

_**Harry: are you awake?** _

Jesus, of course he'd text that as soon as Louis got comfortable and sleepy to boot. He supposes he could lie and say no, but that'd be, well, a lie. 

_**Me: yeah** _

Louis sighs. He was thinking of sleep, not sex. He's not even hard, but he can be for Harry. He'll take care of that in a second. 

It's hardly a minute before the door swings open slowly, and Harry's silhouette appears, trailing towards the bed slowly. His feet are bare, like Louis, he's only wearing sweatpants. 

Louis expects him to say something, or drag Louis towards him and start pulling at his clothing, but much to his surprise, all Harry does is flip back the covers and slide into bed. He tugs at one of Louis's pillows lightly. 

"Can I have one of these?"

"I - yeah, um, I don't need it," Louis blinks. "Are you going to sleep?"

"No, I brought some books, I was going to read a few bedtime stories and then pray."

"Harry."

"Yes I'm going to sleep."

"I thought…you usually come to me when you want a lay."

Harry flips around, facing Louis, and his eyebrows knit together. "No, I'm tired."

"Well so am I."

"Great, then what's the problem?"

"There is no problem!" Louis rolls onto his back, huffing. He could have been asleep by now. It's quiet for a few moments until something Liam mentioned offhandedly last week occurs to Louis. 

"Liam said you get night terrors when you sleep with other people in the room."

Harry sighs, looking over at Louis. "Good thing you're nobody, then."

Louis frowns. Sure, they're not exactly mates but Harry did come into his bed, that's hardly a fair statement. In his peripheral vision, Louis sees a little smile settle on Harry's lips. "I'm kidding, Lewis."

"Louis," Louis grumbles. 

"Louise," Harry decides, scooting a little closer. It makes Louis deeply aware of the fact that he's about to fall asleep next to Harry for the second night in a row, which seems entirely backwards and odd. 

"Your manners are appalling," Louis murmurs, rolling so he's facing away from Harry. "Did you come here just to annoy me?"

The pause between them is filled only with the sound of Harry's shallow breathing. 

"I came because I couldn't sleep," he says eventually. "I'm just fucking tired of laying awake alone. Laying awake listening to you pester me is preferable."

"You can take yourself and leave," Louis huffs, reaching back and lobbing a pillow at Harry, but they both know he doesn't really mean it. "Or go to sleep, then."

"I never sleep, I just lay here and watch you."

"That's a fucking lie. Like the twilight vampire?"

"I'm objectively hotter than he is. Better hair."

"And a bigger ego too, apparently."

"That's not the only thing that's big-" Harry cuts off abruptly when Louis flips around and hits him again with a pillow. To his surprise, it makes Harry laugh. Softly, but still, a genuine laugh, not a sarcastic or derisive one. Louis wishes he would laugh more. He's much less intense when he laughs. 

"I'm going to sleep now," Louis rolls back around to face the wall again. He can't lay down looking at Harry. 

"Okay."

"That's your cue to sleep as well."

"Maybe."

"Don't try anything while I sleep," Louis tells Harry in a low mumble, burying his face into his pillow. 

"I'm a gentleman."

"Good."

"Fine."

\---

When Louis wakes up, Harry's already gone. In fact, there's absolutely no indication he was ever there at all and Louis starts to question the reliability of his memory. Maybe he's been here in LA so long that some sort of manic energy is starting to affect him. 

When he gets downstairs, the only person around is Zayn, lounging around on the couch eating from a pack of blueberry mini muffins. " 'Sup?"

"Where...is everyone?"

"Um," Zayn flips around so his head is hanging off the side of the couch. "Liam's at the gym, Niall's getting his hair touched up and I genuinely haven't seen Harry since yesterday. I thought he was with you?”

Louis laughs nervously, leaning up against the nearest armchair. “Uh, why would he be with me?”

Zayn sits upright, cocking his head. "Wasn't he in your room last night?"

"Why would he be in my room?"

"Louis. You're a shit liar, you essentially just asked me the same question twice."

Louis slides into the armchair, frowning. How does Zayn know? What does he think, surely he's not mad? He doesn't seem to be phased by the thought of it. "Uh, yeah he was in my room but it's not like…" Louis swipes his fringe out of his face by habit. "It's not like a thing, we just kind of started sleeping together accidentally."

Zayn laughs. ""Louis you don't have to give me a whole spiel, we kind of had bets on how long it'd take Harry to sleep with you."

"Bets?"

"It's just kind of a thing," the brunette shrugs. "He always either fucks or scares off the help."

"Hardly say I'm the help," Louis grumbles. 

"Whatever, you get what I'm saying. It's a recurring problem that he permanently scars visitors and fires by either breaking their hearts or traumatizing them. So just... don't fall in love with him and you'll be fine."

"Obviously," Louis rolls his eyes. "I'm leaving anyways, it's never gonna be a thing."

He looks down at the chair, fixating on the threads starting to pick apart and come lose. It's not as if he and Harry have anything special anyways. Maybe after the other night in the garden when Harry seemed so small, so honest Louis thought maybe something would...change? He doesn't know. Maybe he would be able to see a different side of Harry, but apparently Harry does this often, Louis is one in a pattern. He was naive to consider anything else, he knows better deep down. 

Zayn flips around so he's hanging upside down off the couch again. "You know, funny story, our last handler before Liam quit suddenly, which is why we ended up with Liam, and we're never supposed to mention it, but the reason she left was because she walked in on Harry having a threesome with the pool boy and his twin brother."

Louis freezes. "Harry has a twin brother?"

"What? No you prat, the pool boy's brother. Jesus Christ, Harry with a twin. What a nightmare. Either way the situation was still traumatizing. She left hollering and refused to speak to any of us again. She was kind of a bitch though so I don't mind. Liam's much better.

"Liam sleeps with you," Louis points out. "Of course you think he's better."

"I'm biased but he's objectively smarter, nicer and sexier than the last one, you have to agree."

"I'll take your word for it."

Zayn kicks up his feet on the back of the couch. "I haven't stopped thinking about the twin thing since it happened last year, I just want to know how one ends up having sex with siblings."

"Dunno, ask Harry," Louis snickers, pulling his feet up to his chest. "Hey, how did you know he and I are…you know, sleeping together?

Zayn shrugs his shoulders up and down. "Harry tells me everything, duh."

"So you're the only one who knows?"

"Well...I tell Liam everything."

Louis facepalms dramatically. "But Niall doesn't know?"

"Lou... Niall's room is next to Harry's. He knows everything before anyone else."

"God damnit, everyone knows and says nothing? The communication in this house is shit."

"You're just now realizing?" Zayn tosses his head back in a laugh. "Listen we all just assumed it wasn't worth mentioning. I mean unless you want to come forwards and tell me you're madly in love and running off together-"

"Of course not," Louis bristles. "It's just sex, he's mad annoying sometimes."

"Exactly. Don't give two shits what you lot do in your spare time at night as long as it doesn't impact my day frankly."

"Fair enough," Louis shrugs in acknowledgement. "Well, I'm gonna go eat breakfast if nothing else is going on."

"Nothing that I know of," Zayn replies, tossing another mini muffins in his mouth. 

"Fantastic."

Louis wanders into the kitchen, noting with pleasant appreciation that it's raining steadily outside. He can see it through the sliding glass doors at the end of the hall, in all its damp, gloomy glory. It reminds him so much of home, the rain. He supposes he'll be glad to be back in the rain in Doncaster soon. 

Louis fixes himself a bowl of frosted mini wheats and trudges back to the living room where Zayn is still stretched out leisurely. 

"Okay, so I was thinking-"

His sentence is cut short prematurely when the front door can be heard flinging open and slammed shut down the hall. The sound of wet footsteps echoes around and Harry materializes in the living room doorway, chest heaving. The silence that follows is catastrophic. Zayn's mouth falls open. 

Harry looks like was dragged through a tornado and then thrown in a blender. He's sopping wet, head to toe, his clothes and face are covered in scratches and near his hairline there's a short cut oozing blood into his left eyebrow. 

"It's thundering outside," Harry says, breaking the silence. As if that's the big issue at hand. 

"What the fuck," Zayn sets down his muffins and sirs up. "Did you do?"

"Went for a run," Harry shrugs, pushing his soggy hair off his forehead. 

"A run," Zayn repeats. 

"Yeah. Where you move fast. For your health."

"Yeah you look bloody fucking healthy, don't you?"

Harry shrugs. "I didn't know it was going to rain that hard."

"I don't think the rain is the problem here, Harry, I think your face-"

"I'm going to go change," Harry announces, stopping Zayn mid sentence. "It's cold."

He walks backwards out of the room. Zayn falls back on the couch, looking faint. 

"He's unbelievable," the brunette breathes. "I can't even...he needs take his medication dear God, Liam needs to come home and do something, he can't just be walking around like this!"

"Running," Louis corrects dryly. "He's running." He stands up, setting his cereal on the table. "I'm going to go...see if he needs anything."

"Oh yeah, good luck with that," Zayn calls after Louis. "He'll never admit to needing anything, ever. Stubborn bastard."

Louis heads for the stairs, taking a couple of them two at a time. He doesn't bother to pause outside of Harry's door before pushing it open. If he hesitates he'll just be even more awkward. 

"Neosporin," he blurts out as soon as he shuts the door behind him. Harry whips around. 

"Jesus Christ, did nobody teach you to knock?" He's standing in his boxers, his wet hair dangling in front of his face in strands. "What are you talking about."

"Neosporin. I can put Neosporin on your…" Louis gestures vaguely at his head. "You know, your face again."

Harry looks at him darkly. "I can do that on my own."

"You got it in your eye last time."

"I got it in my eye because you hit me with a door, idiot."

Louis elects to ignore him, crossing over to Harry's bed. "I know you keep a first aid kit in your night table, I'm already here, I might as well," he fishes out the tube of Neosporin he knew was there. "Don't make me beg."

"I might be more inclined if you did."

Louis walks slowly over to Harry until they're almost chest to chest. He doesn't break eye contact with him, tilting his head back to maintain the gaze. Harry's only eyes follow Louis, almost curiously. 

"Sit down," Louis demands quietly. "And don't be a dick."

To Louis's surprise, Harry listens and sinks down on the bed. Louis straddles his lap, feeling the expanse of Harry's cool, bare skin against him. He uncaps the bottle of ointment and drips a bit onto his index finger. 

"You know, nobody buys the bullshit running story," he murmurs, dabbing his finger against the cut on Harry's temple. 

Harry flinches but doesn't make a noise of discomfort. "I was running."

"For exercise?"

Harry's gloomy silence is answer enough. Louis dabs more Neosporin onto his finger. "You don't have to lie when something is wrong, you know."

Harry instinctively pulls away slightly, his brows creased into a permanent frown. "It's fucking nothing, I don't see what it means to you."

"So you weren't running for exercise," Louis observes, moving his fingers to the scratch on Harry's cheekbone. 

"I was being followed," Harry says finally, letting Louis resume his Neosporin dabbing. 

"Followed by who?"

"God Louis, I'm famous, I get followed sometimes. Does it matter?"

"You're lying again."

"I'm not lying! I was running and I was being followed, those are both true."

Louis thinks that just for a second he can see Harry's green eyes gloss over with tears, but he ducks his head just as fast. 

Louis looks up at the ceiling, inhaling. There's hardly a way to speak without making Harry upset, but he's hardly in an ideal position to set off his temper. If Harry stands up right now he could practically throw Louis off his lap.

"If there's someone who's trying to...scare you...you don't have to hide with that. Is it Delaney? Because if it's Delaney-"

"Stop." Harry's voice is low. Tired. Louis thinks that's somehow worse than anger. His hands run up and down Louis's waist agitatedly. "I don't want to talk. Can we just…" Harry brings his hand up to Louis's neck, pulling him closer and mouthing at his throat. 

"Don't do this Harry. You're a mess, you don't need this."

"I do. I want it, I need it."

"You need rest. Some fucking water and a nap." Louis adjusts his position in Harry's lap, trying to slip away. It's not that he doesn't want it, he would practically beg for it, but it'd be selfish of him to have Harry in this state, wouldn't it?

Harry grabs his wrist, leaning further into Louis, pressing against his neck. "Please. Please Louis."

Louis shuts his eyes, letting himself give up. Maybe he's weak, or maybe he secretly hates the fact that he has two weeks left here at most and every fucking time he touches Harry could be the last.

He rolls off of Harry's lap and falls back into the bed. 

"Don't take ages," he mutters. 

Harry leans most of his weight on Louis for a moment, biting a kiss onto his collarbones. Louis takes it as an odd sort of thank you. 

"Tell me if you want me to stop."

Harry's such an aggravating prick, but he's surprisingly gentle. That's probably how he gets all the girls. And boys, evidently. 

Louis lets himself become pliant as Harry undresses him quickly, fumbling around for lube and a condom. It hasn't been that long since last time but it feels like longer. Louis silently hopes Harry doesn't go terribly fast. He could ask him to be slower but he's too proud for that. Proud to a fault. 

Blessedly, Harry does take his time opening Louis up slowly, but Louis isn't quite sure if that's due to consideration, or if he just gets off on fingering people. Louis supposes he wins either way. 

Harry pushes in agonizingly slowly, dragging his nails up Louis's torso. When he bottoms out, he grabs Louis's hand and pins it back to the bed, intertwining their fingers. It's so possessive, but so gentle. Louis shuts his eyes. He can't get accustomed to the utter intoxication of this but he's dangerously close to doing so. 

"Open your eyes," Harry breathes. His voice hitches slightly and if nothing else, Louis opens his eyes at that. Harry's eyes are intense under normal circumstances, but now they fixate on Louis, following his face, pupils blown out with lust. 

Louis doesn't know if it's a psychological fact that eye contact suddenly makes fucking someone ten times hotter but it sure seems like science right now. His mouth falls open almost against his will as Harry pushes in harder than the last time, sliding him up the bed a couple inches. 

"Keep your eyes open," Harry instructs and Louis nods. Fucking nods as if he ever listens to Harry. 

Harry's fingers come up to Louis's face, tracing over his parted lips. Tentatively, he runs the pad of his index over Louis's tongue, seeing how he reacts, and then pushes the rest of it in. 

It's hot, it's unreasonably hot. Harry's finger pushing in and out of his mouth, never breaking eye contact. Louis could finish like that, and he almost does until Harry pulls both his fingers and his dick out. Louis fumbles for words of discomfort at the sudden lack of feeling, but he can't seem to find them and whines softly instead. 

"I'm just flipping you over," Harry murmurs, manhandling Louis onto his stomach with ease. And that's hot too. Everything is hot, Louis's skin feels hot. He feels dangerously close to spontaneous combustion, with his face pressed into the pillow. 

Neither of them last much longer after that. Louis finishes with a string of piteous moans, praying to God Zayn can't hear them, and Harry's not far behind.

He collapses on top of Louis to catch his breath. He's damp, from sweat and rain, but he smells clean. He smells like sleep and freshly watered earth, and Louis lets him stay there awhile until his limited oxygen supply runs out. 

"I can't breathe," he mumbles, edging Harry off with his elbow. The younger boy moved away with a groan, sitting up. 

"Fuck. I'll be right back." He stumbles into the bathroom, hovering in there for a moment, and returns wearing boxers again. He grabs Louis's sweats off the floor and tosses a towel at him. "Here."

"Thanks."

Louis wiggles (somewhat uncomfortably) back into his pants, in the time it takes Harry to strip the comforter off the bed and crawl under the remaining blanket. 

"I'm going to sleep."

Louis blinks, his mouth creases into a frown. "It's 10am."

"Is there a timeline for tiredness I'm supposed to be following? Jesus, Louis."

"Sorry, I just…" Louis trails off, slipping down the mattress till he's laying on his back a foot or two away from Harry. The blankets piled around him are surprisingly inviting. Maybe Louis gets post-sex tired easier than he thought. "Should I leave?"

Harry grunts non-committally. Louis decides for personal reasons that's a no. His room is hardly a couple yards away but it's much simpler to stay here. He was never the biggest fan of sleeping alone anyways, always crawled into his mum's bed till he was about 11. 

It's better this way...well no, it's not better, it's worse, once Louis arrives home and realizes he loathes to sleep alone. But it's better now. Yeah he could do with a nap now. 

-

Being shaken awake has to be the worst way to rise, Louis is fairly sure most people would agree, so when he wakes to hands rocking him back and forth it's not his fault that he sits up quickly, slapping the hands away. 

"What, what? Jesus christ." He glances up blearily, rubbing his eyes. Harry's standing above him, looking coldly annoyed. He's fully dressed, hair brushed and all.

"Get up."

"Why? Fuck, you couldn't have found a nicer way to wake me?"

"You've been asleep two hours," he replies, unconcerned. "That's plenty, I think."

"You think," Louis mutters. "But why do you get to decide."

"It's my bed. Get out."

Louis frowns, rubbing his eyes again. He's not exactly sure what happened between then and now, but he doesn't remember Harry being in this piss poor a mood when he fell asleep. "Sorry, did I miss the part where you're acting like such a prissy bastard suddenly?"

"Did I miss the part where you don't get out of my fucking room when I tell you to?" Harry shoots back. He grabs a hair tie off his nightstand and pulls his hair up, which makes his eyes look darker by contrast. 

Louis kicks the blankets back, standing up. "Why the hell are you being like this? If I've done something you can say it but don't go hot and cold like this for God's sake, you're not four years old. Using your words, much?"

Harry laughs, short and derisive. "Well to explain what you did would be rather long wouldn't it? It's not any one thing Louis, it's just generally you. You don't want to be friends so don't act surprised when we aren't friends."

Louis can't recall a time when he explicitly said he didn't want to be friends, but his pride is too insulted to point that out just now. He grabs his shirt off the bed post and shakes his head. "You know, fuck you too, Harry."

"Yeah, you will be back once you want me to fuck you, won't you?"

Louis flips Harry the bird while he stamps towards the door, not bothering to shut it behind him. If Harry's so angsty and craving loneliness he can shut his own fucking door, can't he? Louis heads for the stairs, jogging down into the dining room where Niall's having lunch. No surprise there. The snap of Harry's bedroom door slamming shut sounds all the way down to the lower floor, making Niall look up from his food. 

"Well he's pleasant, isn't he?"

"Hardly," Louis grumbles. "When did you get back?"

"Not even five minutes ago."

"Where's Zayn?"

"Off with Liam I expect. I'm the only normal one in this house, did you know? I sit here and eat _quesadillas_ while the rest of you are pairing off and fucking like rabbits. It's bloody annoying."

"Well, I'll be gone soon and you can have your space back." Louis doesn't mean for it to come out so cutting. Niall's face falls. 

"I didn't mean it like that, Louis, c'mon."

"No I'm serious, I - jesus, I care about you guys but...it was a temp job, Niall," Louis shrugs helpfully. "It wasn't supposed to be like this. Messy. Difficult. It's so endless."

Niall primps his freshly bleached hair, popping a bit of tortilla into his mouth. "Welcome to our lives, Louis. Imagine how tired we are."

"God I fucked up, I just know I did."

"By coming here?"

"By coming here, by the choices I made here, by everything in between, probably."

"You know," Niall sighs, an air of aged wisdom settling around him as he scoops salsa onto his plate. "When the entire world starts crumbling around this house and we're all faced with the repercussions of our shitty decisions, I like to think of it less as _wow I seriously fucked that up_ and more like _I'm young and this is my time to fuck things up and learn from it. "_

Louis rests his chin in his hands, gazing at Niall. Behind the reckless facade of carefree fun, the blonde is wiser than he lets on. Maybe he does that on purpose. Fakes naivety to handle all the shit cards he's dealt daily. 

"Does it get exhausting?" Louis asks honestly. "The other boys, Zayn and Harry being...well, Zayn and Harry?"

"Zayn is...not as bad as he used to be," Niall replies with consideration. "He has some issues with his family that he carries with him and that shit always hurts, I imagine it hurts forever, but mostly he's come to terms with it and he's a good role model - he really is! He's been through it but he's still here to tell the story and he's all loved up to boot. He's my brother, for life.

But Harry...I always think of Harry as if he and Zayn jumped for the same ledge and where Zayn landed, Harry missed and fell. I don't know everything that happened with him when he was a kid, and that's not me bullshitting some ' _well why don't you go ask Harry about it_ ' type of mystery, truth be told I don't believe in that. If I knew what happened to him I'd tell you because he needs help and no one's been able to give it so far. Whatever hurt he carries all the time isn't healed, it's like a festering, untreated wound. Do you know what happens to people with untreated wounds, Louis?"

Louis swallows thickly. "They never heal?"

"They never heal, and eventually they'll kill you. And I fucking hate to see it." For once, Niall looks deeply serious. There's always a light behind his eyes, as if he's perpetually ready to laugh at the next joke, but he looks stormy now. "He's so gentle, Lou. You don't understand how good of a person he is. People give up on him cause he's different, but he's just trying to keep himself alive at all times, and that's what hurts me the most. Not the fame, not the attention. Fuck that, I love my job. But watching him drown? I can't stand that."

"I know he's not a bad person," Louis murmurs. "I see that behind everything else, but he makes himself so bloody _difficult_ to deal with."

"Yeah, that would be the point at which most people give up on him," Niall laughs humorlessly.

"Well I don't know what I'm supposed to do! It's not as if he wants my help."

"Just don't give up on him."

"I'm _leaving._ In days Niall, I'll be gone."

"Then don't give up on him after that!" Niall tosses down his last quesadilla wedge, a sure sign he means business. "Send him fucking postcards for all I care but you have to understand that you've become part of this household, right?"

"I dunno, have I?"

"You have, you have. Of course you have. We've never had a _you_ before. And I think we're better off for your presence here. Even if it's not you, it's the difference you bring. If you think Harry's bad now, he's worse in our normal routine. I loathe to think of the crash he'll have once we go back to it. I _know_ this isn't your life, Lou, but it's ours and frankly we're miserable most of the time. So if you could do us the tiny favor of not forgetting the fucked up kids on that one TV show you worked for once... we'd all appreciate it."

"You think I could forget you guys?" Louis asks, shocked. "You're the strangest bunch of people I've ever met."

"Thanks?"

"No I mean it. All of you, I couldn't forget even if I tried. But I won't try. Because I'll miss you."

Niall glances up, face softened. He looks touched. "We'll miss you too."

"Good. Because I'm unforgettable too."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Niall Character Development. That's it, that's the conclusion of my notes. 
> 
> No but seriously I love Niall, he's so underrated, partially because I did that on purpose for the sake of him being useful later on and partially because frankly niall's just underrated in general. Give that kid some love. 
> 
> And yeah Harry's back on his bullshit, but when is he ever not. But at least you get a long chapter to make up for it. 
> 
> And lastly I posted my song list for this work on tumblr @isabeljosephineee if you wanna go look at that. 
> 
> Lots of love and TPWK ✌️🌼🧡


	22. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merry christmas!!! your present is that you get a new chapter. And if you don't celebrate then this is just your prize for being attentive readers, you deserve it <3
> 
> PS: I'm sorry it's so late i hella tried to get this out faster but genuinely half of this was written tonight just now

It's cold silence from Harry for days after that.

The truth is that Louis doesn't understand. A few days ago, Harry was fine. Fine enough that Louis thought maybe... something was shifting? That he could be fine and  _ stay _ fine and Louis would get to see that change before he left. And now he's back to square one. Reclusive, unkempt, frigidly cold. It's like the longest, most exhausting game of tug 'o war and Louis is so  _ tired _ of playing. He keeps his head up and refuses to let it get to him. His days here are rapidly coming to an end and the last thing Louis is going to do is let that be ruined for him. 

Although Niall's words haunt him, Louis can't imagine a timeline where he doesn't give up on Harry. He leaves here, he goes home, Harry stays in Los Angeles, famous and untouchable, and they never speak again. Some things are what they are. The one thing Louis can promise is that he truly won't ever forget Harry - or any of them - ever. 

And he doesn't know if he's the same person going home that he is when he left.

-

"Three days!" Fizzy trills in a singsong voice as soon as Louis's facetime call rings through.

He props his phone on his desk, chuckling. "Nearly there, aren't we Fizz?"

Three days seems like awhile but Louis knows he'll blink and they'll be over. Tomorrow there's a cast and crew after-party, both to celebrate the boy's show ending and the end of production for their documentary. The day after that, Louis flies back home to Doncaster. Between flights and layovers combined, he'll arrive home almost exactly three days from now. And it's a good thing because truth be told he's been frankly awful about staying in touch with his family. There's only so many things Louis can divide his attention to. Luckily he's been able to brush off his mum's concern with simply excuses about how busy it is here, but the guilt of neglecting them is getting to him. 

"So," Lottie pulls his attention when she pops into the frame. "Do you have loads of pictures for us when you get home?"

"For the  _ last _ time," Louis begins exasperatedly. "I can't show you most everything until it comes out publicly. It'd be a violation of my contract."

"Oh  _ contract this _ ,  _ contract that _ , what are they going to do to you?"

"Never give me work again?" Louis guesses. "Blacklist my name? Not the future I'm going for."

"You're such a goodie two shoes, Lou," Lottie informs him loftily. 

"Just keeping my reputation clean," Louis grins. "Where are the twins?"

They talk awhile after that. His mum comes in at one point, gushing over how much they miss him and can't wait for Louis to come back. She cheerily tells him that she thinks the man she's been seeing since last winter might be special. He's been hanging around the girls more often and they get along. Louis tells her how happy he is for her, and that feels like the first time he's been truly honest in weeks. His mum deserves to have a shining smile on her face like this every day. 

Far too soon, Liam knocks on Louis's door to let him know they're due on set in half an hour and they need to wrap things up and go. It's the last day of filming, which means Louis is obligated to be there and capture everything with his camera. 

Louis bids his family goodbye and promises to at least text before his plane takes off if he doesn't call again, and then he scrambles around for his things before meeting the others in the car. 

The drive is mostly uneventful, save for Niall talking a mile a minute just because he can. Perhaps he's trying to meet a certain word count before Louis leaves.

Harry, of course, is still pointedly ignoring him. 

The last day of filming, as it turns out, is a lot like the last day of school in the sense that no actual work seems to get done. They tape for an hour, tops, and after that it's signing each other's T-shirts, passing around bottles of sparkling cider and letting off party poppers. They do group photos of the cast and crew together, and then just the cast or just the crew (in which Louis is graciously included) and then he grabs his own camera and starts grabbing shots.

TV parents line up with their respective TV children for a 'family' portrait. Somehow Louis didn't know till know that Zayn's character has seven siblings. 

At some point, a massive cake with the show's logo is brought out and Louis groups the boys together for a photo with it. Niall actually starts bawling by this time, tearfully hugging the other boys close and blubbering about what a great time he's had playing Finley Woods and making friends for life. Zayn looks begrudgingly proud, though a little tired. Harry looks like he'd rather be anywhere than here. He's so void of any sort of emotion that Louis finds it extremely difficult to capture any viable photo of him. 

As the sun starts to sink behind the hills surrounding the city, Louis is presented with an honorary shirt with 'CREW' emblazoned on the back, just like the rest of the team have. Liam snatches his camera and insists on a group photo with the other boys, lining them up together. Louis doesn't argue, he wants to commemorate this moment. 

It's Niall that pulls Louis into his arms, planting a smacking kiss on his cheek. The poor kid is still teary eyed. Zayn grins at Louis, teeth and all. It's the happiest Louis has seen him. Maybe he's proud of the show or maybe the show ending will mean newfound freedom for him. Either way, Louis hopes Zayn keeps smiling after he's gone. He rests his head on the dark-haired boy's shoulder fondly, waiting for Liam to figure out how to work the camera. 

Louis can feel Harry's hand resting on his shoulder as they're all grouped together. He wishes that one piece of the puzzle had fallen into place. Harry smiling, Harry being hopeful for the future, that's what Louis would preserve in the perfect last hurrah photo. 

"Okay, okay, I figured out - smile, boys!" Liam calls from the front, squinting into the viewfinder. 

Despite the trials it took to get to this moment, both before and after Louis arrived in LA, despite the way he knows Harry probably hates him right now for whatever Harry-reasons he has, Louis turns to the camera and gives his widest, cheesiest grin, letting Niall utterly crush him into another hug. This is the coolest, biggest thing Louis has ever been a part of, and come what may, he can say he's proud  _ now _ .

-

The car ride back smells like musty apples. Niall, in true Niall fashion, was soaked with Martinelli's cider by a couple of crew members and now it's mixed with sweat and sitting in a hot car.

There's an air of bittersweet finality between them. The feeling of endings and beginnings being stitched together. Louis thinks it's put them all in contemplative moods.

"We're not cast mates anymore," Niall says finally, breaking the silence. He sounds almost shocked at his own words. "For the first time in three years, we aren't cast mates."

"More like two and a half, but yes" Zayn agrees. "Talk about the end of an era."

"But it's not the  _ end _ right?" Niall looks up, earnest. "We'll all...I mean, we  _ live  _ together, we'll keep living together, won't we?"

"Don't be a prat, Niall," Liam looks back, draping his arm around Zayn's shoulders. "The show is the reason we ended up grouped together but it's not what  _ kept _ us grouped together."

"We have a tour," Harry says bluntly. The first thing Louis has heard from him all day. 

Liam frowns. "Well, yes, the tour will keep us together for awhile but I was referring more towards the more  _ sentimental _ reasons we stay connected."

"The tour will keep us connected. The record deal will keep us connected. Even if we didn't  _ want _ to be connected, management will make sure to tie our lives together, won't they?"

"You're a proper joy to be around, you know that Harry?" Niall shakes his head in annoyance. 

"I'm being realistic."

"Not everyone wants _ realism _ , Harry."

"Well evidently some of you need it-"

"Harry, seriously," Liam interrupts. "Give it a rest."

Harry looks like he wants to say more, but he just shuts his mouth and turns to look out the window. 

-

The following day passes rapidly, far too fast for Louis's liking. His last day and he's filled with a gradually intensifying feeling of dread. It's so fucking naive the way he can't reconcile leaving when Harry's like this. It's not his place, it  _ never _ was, but his conversation with Niall follows him like a mournful ghost, and if nothing else,  _ Harry himself _ haunts Louis. Any improvement displayed on Harry last week has faded into strung out pallor. 

_ Drowning _ . That's how Niall and Zayn describe it. Drowning in  _ what? _ And if nobody reaches out, how will he come up for air?

-

"Louuuiiis, great party, no?" Zayn grabs Louis from behind, flipping him around and beaming. As far as Louis knows, there isn't really much to drink around tonight so Zayn's simply sober and excitable. 

"Yeah it's um, it's something else. Bigger than the parties we have in Donny, that's for sure."

It's true. Louis has been to his share of parties back home but none of them involved a set-up teak arriving hours beforehand to prep. 

The party is nothing that can't be called  _ Teen Vogue _ friendly. There are a lot of adults around the house (which Liam made sure was properly cleaned up) mostly the cast and crew but also some various studio execs and other people coming to admire the culmination of their years work on the show. 

"Listen," Zayn puts his hand on Louis's shoulder and leans in. "Harry's gotten drunk and he's in a right mood, I don't think this is going to end well, I'm just warning you."

"How did get get  _ drunk, _ no one is even drinking!"

"I dunno, probably went into the garden and got utterly pissed. It's not that hard to get drunk when you put your mind to it. Look, all I'm saying is that if you see him start to pick a fight with someone, either clear out or get Liam, but whatever you do, do it fast."

"We can't ever have  _ one _ normal night, can we?"

Zayn grins, holding up his sparkling cider in a toast. "Of course not, that'd be wildly out of character."

The damper of that sticks with Louis after Zayn slips away into the crowd. He finds himself zoning out of conversations to scan his peripherals for Harry. There's a very nice man telling Louis all about how he too got his start with paparazzi work, and now he produces films, but truth be told Louis hasn't registered more than a few of his words. 

It's not an enormous party, and far from any sort of rager. There are maybe 35 people but in a house this large that doesn't add up to much. The kitchen is laid out with snack food, meaning Niall is hanging around nearby there. Liam is mingling around, looking very professional and speaking with a lot of equally important looking figures. He's keeping his distance from Zayn. Louis supposes not even the people here can know about their relationship, which makes him a little sad. He hopes one day, even if it’s when Louis is grown with kids of his own, he can read in the news that actor Zayn Malik and his longtime partner came out as queer and smile.

Louis is in a better mood after that pleasant thought, deciding to put Harry and all subsequent concerns from his mind and instead focus on enjoying his last night in Los Angeles. He helps himself to a glass of sparkling water and some hors d'oeuvres and begins to properly mingle, which ends him up paired with a fascinating pink-haired woman of tiny stature who works in the company’s camera department and got her start at the bottom of the food chain after she immigrated to the states with her mother from India. She’s cordial and dead funny and Louis is quite enjoying talking to her until their conversation halts when someone that she apparently knows from a while back pops up to greet her warmly. As the two of them chatter excitedly, Louis sees the moment as an out to excuse himself to go use the bathroom. 

He skirts around the edge of the crowd, slipping out into the hall, and as Louis passes by the drawing room he hears the sound of glass shouting and a voice raises.

“Harry, that’s  _ highly _ uncalled for!”

“Fuck you!” the reply comes unmistakably from Harry. “You can’t have  _ everything _ you don’t get to control  _ everything _ .”

“You’re being unreasonable.” the first voice cuts in. “Throwing glasses, like a child. As your team, we have both the responsibility and authority to make the best possible choices for your career, you should be thanking us.”

“Fuck you,” Harry repeats. “Fuck you and all your rules all the bullshit and the entire team, you can all go to hell.”

Behind Louis, there’s a quick clattering of feet and Liam rounds the cornered, looking harried. Tentatively, Louis follows him into the drawing room, hoping to go unnoticed.

“Oh, Liam, good,” a handsome salt and pepper haired man, who Louis reasonably connects to be the owner of the other voice, looks up when they enter. “Harry here is displaying utterly ridiculous behavior.” He turns back to Harry. “I hope you don’t treat your handler like this.”

“Liam’s not a shit person,” Harry spits disdainfully.

“I’m so sorry,” Liam says quickly. “Harry’s had a bit much to drink, he’s not himself right now.”

“He’s sixteen years old,” the man replies, looking affronted. Although Louis doubts this person’s integrity as a human, he does appreciate the normal reaction to gross underaged drinking.

“Er, well, yes,” Liam stumbles over his words, taking Harry’s arm. “We all have those days, don’t we?”

Harry shakes his arm away. “Don’t touch me.”

“Harry please, there are so many people here,” Liam pleads. “Don’t make a scene right now.”

“Well I don’t want any people here, they should all leave!

“They can - they will, but right now, let's just...get you up to your room.”

“I am not  _ going to my room! _ ” Harry shouts. “What am I, fucking eight years old. Timeout, Liam? Shall I sit in the corner and miss dinner as well?

“No, of course not, you -”

“I can’t do this,” Harry interjects, breathing sharply and pushing his fingers through his hair. “I can’t be here, this is - no.” He stumbles back, bumping his shoulder on the doorframe and spins around abrupt, leaving the room.

Liam buries his face in his hands. “Fuck. Fuck, fuck fucking  _ hell. _ ” He looks up Louis weakly, gesturing to the door Harry just exited from. “Can you…” he gestures vaguely. “I need to deal with this.”

“Yeah,” Louis agrees quietly. “ ‘course.”

The last thing he hears before he follows Harry out of the room is Liam turning and beginning to apologize profusely to the salt and pepper haired man.

Thankfully, Harry chose to leave in the most inconspicuous route away from all the guests, leaving through the back sliding doors and striding down the driveway. Louis has to jog to catch up, calling after him.

“Harry, wait,  _ wait.”  _ He gets close enough to make a grab for Harry’s sleeve and manages to catch him by the wrist. “Where are you going?”

Harry spins around. His eyes are red and he looks dangerously close to crying. “Why do you care?”

“I don’t,” Louis responds automatically. “But Liam asked me to follow.”

“Then tell Liam you couldn’t find me and go back inside, leave me alone.”

“But that’d be lying - no, Harry  _ wait _ ,” Louis breaks off, struggling for words while trying to keep Harry put. “Can you just talk? For once, instead of running?”

“No,” Harry says shortly.

“Why? Why do you do this, what’s  _ wrong? _ ”

“Everything! Every. Fucking. Thing. That could be wrong in my life is wrong and has been wrong and will continue to be wrong and there are moments when I cannot be expected to handle that. So please, just...fucking, go back to the house, Louis.”

Louis hugs his arms around himself as if shielding from nonexistent cold. “Where will you go? It’s almost midnight.”

“I don’t know. Away.”

“When are you coming back?”

“I don’t  _ know. _ ”

“What am I supposed tell Liam, Harry!”

“I don’t know! That I’m gone for now. I’ll be back when I can. Besides that...tell him not to worry.”

“Bloody unlikely, asking him not to worry.”

“Goodbye, Louis,” Harry turns and continues down the drive. Louis swallows thickly. 

“This is a bad idea!”

“ _ Goodbye _ , Louis.”

Louis trudges back up the driveway, feeling like he lost. Somewhere, somehow, he lost.

Inside, Liam is seeing guests out, thanking them for coming and talking about doing it again soon. The usual. After the last person is out and the door is shut, he beckons Louis over.

“Where’s Harry?”

“He left. Said to tell you not to worry.”

“Left for where?”

“God, I don’t know, Liam. He’s impossible to talk to.”

“I know, I  _ know _ , but - jesus he’s such a pain in the arse.”

“Maybe he needs some time,” Zayn offers softly. “The show, a huge portion of his life, just ended. He probably needs some space to reflect on that and calm down before we start another big project. Look at it this way, we don’t have anywhere to be for a couple weeks before tour, now is the time. He comes home. He always comes home, Liam.”

“Yeah,” Liam agrees, still looking peeved. “Yeah, I know. We still need to um...clean up and all that shit.”

“No, let’s sleep,” Niall chimes in. Louis didn’t even know Niall was in the room till he sees the blonde pop up off the couch. “Seriously, it’s been a long day. The mess will be here in the morning and it’ll be easier after some rest.”

Liam sighs. “Yeah, no, you’re right. And Louis you have your flight and all in the morning, I’m sorry. Yeah we should all just...bed,” he finishes weakly. 

“Good call.”

All four of them shuffle up the stairs, bidding each other various goodnights. Niall reminds Louis to thoroughly enjoy his last night on their massive LA beds but please don’t jack off and ruin the sheets.

He’s a real comedian, Niall.

It’s nearing 1am by the time Louis takes all the packing crap and luggage off his bed, showers, and brushes his teeth, but even then he’s too pent up to sleep. There are too many looping thoughts circling around his brain. He decides to open up his computer and sort through all the pictures he took over the past three days, which ones to delete, which ones to send in to the documentary team, that sort of thing. He had intended to do this on the plane tomorrow but since Louis has got the time now...may as well.

It’s at least an hour later when Louis is startled by a noise near the stairs down the hall. Concernedly, he gets to his feet and peers out his door. To his surprise, he sees Harry’s silhouette flash on the wall and pass by, heading into the bathroom and shutting the door. 

Odd. Louis figured he would be gone at least all night. Quite honestly, he wondered if he’d see Harry again at all. 

He shouldn’t go talk to him, the last thing he needs is more on his mind before he tries to sleep. But then again, the last time Louis intercepted Harry in a bathroom in the middle of the night, he ended up genuinely needing help bandaging up. And what if Harry came home because he’s  _ hurt _ ?

Against his better judgement, Louis stands up and crosses down the hall to the bathroom. As he nears the door, he can hear the shower water crank on and start to flow. 

Alright. Perhaps not the best time to check on Harry. 

Defeated, Louis drags his feet back to his room. Chances are, he was overthinking. Harry’s sixteen and temperamental, he probably got whatever mood he was in out of his system and now he’s home and cleaning up and going to bed.

Louis flips the light off and climbs into bed. He needs sleep more than he can justify putting it off any longer. The sheets seem cold and stiff, it’s not comfortable. Louis can already tell whatever rest he gets will be fitful. He doesn’t know when exactly he ended up falling asleep, or if he truly did at all, but he is perfectly aware when he blinks back to consciousness suddenly, a feeling of unease creeping over him. It takes Louis a second to figure out what’s putting him off, until he hears it.  _ The shower water is still running _ . According to the clock on the wall it’s 3:47am. Who showers for an hour and a half straight? It’s not right.

Louis pushes the covers back, stumbling out of bed. It’s not a sixth sense so much as it is logic.  _ Nobody in their right mind showers for that long _ . The bathroom is exactly as it was when Louis walked away last. Door closed, light on, water running. Louis knocks softly, before realizing it’s probably too quiet to be heard over the shower. He knocks again, louder this time. No response.

Fuck it, it’s not the first time he’s seen Harry naked.

Louis turns the handle and pushes the door open and upon walking in, his first realization is that naked Harry would have been preferable.

He’s sprawled in the tub, head hanging limply, fully clothed while water sprays down onto him.  _ Freezing  _ fucking cold water. The whole room is frigid with it. 

“What the fuck are you doing?” Louis whispers, mostly to himself, dropping to his knees. He grabs Harry’s face, forcing his chin up. His lips are blue and his skin is bitterly cold to the touch. “Wake up, wake up, what are you doing?”

Harry blinks his eyes open slowly, making Louis' heart race with a little less speed. At least he’s alive, that’s a good start. “I was drunk, I had a headache,” he slurs.

“Well now you probably have hypothermia,” Louis reaches over, shutting the water off quickly. He pushes the wet hair off of Harry’s face. “Can you stand up?”

“I can’t,” Harry whimpers, turning his face away. 

“You have to, god, you’re  _ so _ cold.” He sits Harry forwards, peeling the soggy shirt off of him and casting it aside. The jeans take longer - wet skinny jeans and sliding off don’t mix well - but Louis works quickly. He can feel Harry shivering uncontrollably beneath his hands, maybe that’s incentive to move fast. When he gets him stripped down to his boxers, Louis hooks his arms around Harry and pulls him up, hoping desperately that he can support them both. Though Harry’s so out of it he doubts he’d notice if they fell over. 

“You have to help me walk,” Louis says through gritted teeth, pushing the door open with his toe. Weakly, Harry attempts to move but Louis can feel when he prompt gives up because it almost topples them.

Through some small miracle, Louis gets them into Harry’s room and tips him onto the bed. He rummages around in the dresser, pulling out appropriately warm clothing, and returning to Harry.

“Sit up.”

Harry whines in the back of his throat unwillingly. 

“Sit  _ up _ , I can’t dress you without your help.”

Harry’s  _ most  _ disinclined to be helpful. His head flops around like he hasn’t learned how to hold it up yet, he tries to tip backwards every time Louis lets go of him for even a second. The best he does is allow himself to be mostly pliable.

“There,” Louis says finally, yanking Harry’s hand through the sleeve of the sweatshirt he’s wrestled onto him. 

“There,” Harry echoes distantly. His eyes are half shut and he tips forwards slowly, resting his head in the crook of Louis’s neck and bringing his arms up. It takes Louis a second to realize that intentional or unintentional, Harry’s hugging him. He lifts his arms, resting them on Harry’s back.

He smells nice. And Louis is so stupid for knowing he’ll miss him.

“You’re still so cold,” Louis whispers after a minute.”

“Still cold,” Harry agrees. He’s definitely not in his right mind, the real Harry would never be this agreeable. Louis drags Harry to the middle of the bed, kicking the covers out from underneath them and wrapping them mostly around Harry. 

He’s so deeply going to regret spending his last night in Harry’s bed, but if he leaves now he’d regret that too. Harry rolls against him, no doubt seeking any amount of bodily heat he can find. It may be out of desperation but it still looks cute. Like a baby fox burrowing up for the winter. Louis rests his hand in Harry’s hair gently.

“You better not to stupid things like that after I’m gone,” he warns in a low voice. “I won’t be here to clean you up.”

Harry shrugs his shoulders up and down noncommittally. His eyes are shut, he’s probably exhausted. Cold makes you tired. Louis thinks he remembers reading that once. He can’t really be sure, he never did pay attention in sciences. But he’s tired too, and the hours are ticking down till he’s due to leave this place. Maybe forever. Probably forever.

But Louis can’t stand to think of that.

-

In the morning, it’s Louis who gets up first. Harry’s still fast asleep. He snores a tiny bit, which Louis thinks is annoying and sweet. He wishes he had his camera and could take a picture of Harry like this. Unbothered, peaceful. That’s how Louis wants to remember him.

He goes to his room and finishes gathering all his stuff, scanning the room for any forgotten trinkets and properly zipping his luggage. Louis drags his things into the hall, taking one last glance into the now vacated room. This is it. Goodbye to a temporary home. It was a nice room, no complaints. 

Liam helps Louis haul his suitcases down the stairs. By that time Harry’s awake and joined the others in the kitchen for breakfast. He doesn’t say anything about last night, to no surprise of Louis’s.

So all Louis can do is sit there and eat a muffin and ignore the weighty sense of dread pushing on his chest. It’s oddly somber in the house, as if no one wants to say anything and remind the other’s that Louis has mere minutes left here.

“The car is on it’s way,” Liam says finally at half past nine. “They’ll take you to the airport and see you through security and all.”

“Great,” Louis responds faintly.

“You’ll text us, right Louis?” Niall asks, picking at his cereal morosely. Niall, too sad to eat. That’s concerning.

“Of course,” Louis replies. Deep down he doesn’t know how sustainable a friendship between a bunch of high flying celebrities and a small town no one will be, but in a perfect world they’ll stay in touch.

At 9:45, all five of them drag their feet down the front steps to the driveway where the car waits. Niall and Zayn refuse to let Louis carry his own luggage, stating stubbornly that it’s the least they can do for him. They help him tuck it into the trunk and make everything fit before stepping back.

“Well,” Louis says. His throat feels oddly tight. “This is the end.”

“It’s not the end,” Niall says, wiping his eyes with his sleeve. Poor kid is already in tears. “It’s just the intermission.”

“Okay, this is the intermission. And I’m exiting stage left.” Louis chews on his lip. “I’ll miss you guys.”

“We’ll miss you,” Niall blubbers, throwing himself onto Louis and pulling him into a spine-damaging hug. “You were the best photographer we’ll ever get. No one else would have won that many rounds of pool chicken with me.”

“Keep winning pool chicken for us both, Niall,” Louis smiles, extracting himself carefully. He turns to Zayn, giving him a much gentler hug. Zayn kisses his cheek cordially as he pulls away. “Safe travels Lou, thank you for everything.”

“Yeah Louis, be safe,” Liam agrees, patting his shoulder and giving him yet another hug. “Text us when you land!”

“I will.” Louis turns to Harry, faltering. They’re hardly likely to hug in the light of day while everyone looks on. Harry sticks his hand out in offering and Louis takes it, shaking it slightly awkwardly.

“Goodbye, Louis.”

“Bye,” Louis whispers. His voice barely registers. He turns away, opening the car door and mentally checking he has all his things with him. Carry on bag, wallet, passport, camera -  _ camera! _ Louis had set it on the desk in his room to grab after he took his luggage down so he didn’t risk squashing it. He whips around. 

“I’ve forgotten my camera! I’ll be right back.”

Louis can hear Niall laughing behind him as he jogs back into the house, up the flight of stairs and screeches to a halt in his room. Camera, camera, camera...ah! He snatches it off the chair by his desk and whips around, letting out a muffled cry of alarm when he sees Harry looming in the doorway. 

“Jesus,” he says, clutching his chest. “I didn’t even know you were behind me.”

Harry walks closer, crossing the room stops when they’re almost chest to chest. Louis breathes shallowly. “Why are you - um, why are you here?”

“I wanted to know what it was like, before you go,” Harry tells him in a quiet voice. 

“What  _ what  _ was like?”

“Just…” Harry trails off, scanning Louis’s face, somewhere between calculating and considering, and then he closes the gap between them abruptly and presses his lips to Louis’s. 

Louis has time to register all of two things: one, he’s kissing Harry, or rather Harry’s kissing him, and his mouth is surprisingly warm and two, this is the worst thing that could have possibly happened. 

Harry pulls away almost as soon as he started, and takes a step back.

Almost without realizing, Louis brings his fingertips to his own mouth, touching his lips. “Why?” he breathes.

“Because I’ve never kissed before,” Harry shrugs, as if he’s telling Louis about the weather forecast.

“How have you never been kissed before? That’s not even likely.”

“I’ve been kissed,” Harry corrects. “I’ve never kissed back.” He walks backwards slowly, till he’s hovering in the doorway once more. “Bye, Louis.”

Louis can’t say anything as he watches Harry turn and disappear. He doesn’t even know if he can pull himself together and leave the room. There’s a car waiting for him. God there’s a car waiting for him and he’s taken far too long to grab one thing and come back. Louis swallows tightly and grabs the camera, hoping none of his feelings read on his face as he jogs back out to the front. 

“Got it!” He announces cheerily to several sarcastic claps. “I’m really...really leaving now.”

“We’ll skip drawing out goodbyes with another round of hugs,” Zayn says, his dark eyes twinkling.

“I won’t,” Niall disagrees, seizing onto Louis fondly one last time. “Okay now go before I cry again.”

“I am.”

“Go!”

“I’m going!” Louis laughs in spite of himself as he climbs in the car. Or perhaps laughs so he doesn’t cry. Laughs so he doesn’t have to think about Harry. “Goodbye! Make a group chat, I’ll text you all!

“I can send gifs of myself!” Niall exclaims excitedly. 

“Make a group chat without Niall,” Louis amends.

“Fuck you! Love you!” the blond waves enthusiastically as Louis shuts his door. 

He waves back, mouthing a goodbye that he can see the rest of them return. He waves as the driver backs out and keeps waving as they cruise down the drive and waves even until the boys fade out into blurs. It’s only when the car turns the corner and Louis faces front again that he allows the tears to roll down his cheeks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's right. For christmas you got The Larry Kiss.
> 
> Just so we're perfectly clear because I don't want anyone getting let down: the book is not over. More awaits you. We don't even know harry's story yet?? we haven't seen the boys tour?? Harry and Louis have only kissed ONCE? I mean come on you didn't think that was the end. 
> 
> I don't know when the next update will be, but...there will be one! In the mean time, I hope you enjoyed this chapter and had a lovely christmas xoxoxo


	23. Chapter 23

Louis Tomlinson is washed up at eighteen. Soon to be nineteen, but still, washed up. Or at least that's what it feels like. Or rather, the acute lack of feeling is what's got him wasting away.

Returning was joyous enough. Seeing his family, falling into his bed again. Fizzy happily and mildly aggressively informed him that the boys -Harry, Niall and Zayn, that is - had announced a brand new surprise album and tour. Louis already knew that, of course, but he doesn't tell his sisters. But as soon as the freshness of being home wears off, Louis starts to feel desolate.

Three weeks, now. That's how long he's been home. And what has Louis done in that time? Precisely nothing. He hasn't even unpacked his god damn suitcase, he can't bring himself to do it. To admit that the last two and a half months of his life are really over and he has to adjust to Normal again now. 

And it's not that he didn't miss home, he missed it to death. The city, the house, his family. Of course he wants to kiss his sisters' little faces and spend time with his mum and her boyfriend - who seems to have become quite a fixture in the household now - but Louis now has no choice but to come to terms with the fact that he left something behind in LA too. He had brothers there and he had, well, Harry. Stupid, devastatingly beautiful, broken Harry who kissed him before he left and acted like it was nothing. 

He has no idea what that did to Louis. That in seconds he tore down the haphazardly built wall of determined distance and annoyance and forced Louis to realize… realize what? That he loves Harry too? How can one love someone so detached and closed off?

Louis doesn't know, but he wishes Harry had never come into that room after their goodbyes. If he'd been able to remember him only as barely warm enough to give a perfunctory farewell handshake, maybe Louis never would have had to come to terms with the fact that a little bit of him became codependent on Harry's presence somewhere along the way. 

-

Louis goes to bed late on Saturday night. Well, truthfully he went to bed early - with murmured excuses to his visibly concerned mother that the jet lag still gets to him sometimes - and then he proceeded to lay in bed til the wee hours of the morning, overthinking both the past and the future. He needs to get back into the swing of things. See his mates. Return to his job - hopefully they've held some sort of position for him. And if not, well, he'll be tasked with finding another. 

He fades into a restless sleep like that, tangling with his sheets and pillow all night. He's pretty sure the pillow won, judging by the hour he finally slept at. 

It's not at all welcome when Fizzy bursts into his room at 8am, all but gasping for air. She looks shell shocked and breathless. 

"He's here," she says faintly, leaning on the door frame. 

Louis turns over, wrapping the blankets over his shoulders. "Who is here?"

"Harry." Fizzy clears her throat, finding her voice. "Harry Styles is here at our house and he's asking for you."

"He's fucking _what_?" Louis sits bolt upright, tripping on his comforter as he falls out of bed. "Sorry, shit, sorry, I didn't mean to swear in front of you, don't tell Mum. Jesus, um- you, go entertain him or something, I'll be right there."

Fizzy nods, listening perfectly for once in her life, and runs out of the door. Panicked, Louis throws on a pair of sweats and the cleanest T-shirt he can find. Which isn't very clean because he's neglected to do his laundry since he got back. Harry. _Here_? Why would he be here? Louis's hands are practically shaking as he jogs down the stairs unceremoniously and skids to a halt on the landing. 

He really is there. Harry Styles, in the flesh. Louis knew Fizzy wouldn't lie - not that extremely blatantly - but it's just so odd seeing Harry in his hallway looking wholly out of place and posh in his skinny jeans and dark Burberry coat. He looks perfect, he always looks perfect. 

"Hi," Louis says, more breathless than he would have liked. 

Harry smiles, equanimous and professional more than anything else. "Hello."

There's a baited, tense silence in which Fizzy simply gapes and the rest of Louis's sisters hover in the kitchen doorway, awestruck.

"We can um- shit, here, come upstairs," Louis offers. "No privacy with thisblot," he vaguely shoos the girls away, beckoning Harry up to his room. The younger boy follows, curiously eyeing the family pictures hung on the stairwell wall.

Once in his room, Louis feels a bit exposed. His childhood bedroom, all his shit is in here, posters and comic books and stuffed bear. It's not like the fancy, neutral bedroom he used back in LA, it's personal. 

Louis turns to Harry, scratching behind his ear. "Why are you here, Harry?"

Harry tears his eyes away from Louis's CD collection and looks at him coolly. "I'm here to offer you a job."

"A job?" Louis repeats, confused. 

"Yes. See, when artists tour, they bring a photographer to capture everything they might want preserved so one day they can look back at it or sell it to a museum or something. Liam interviewed several people interested in the position, but the other boys pointed out there was a glaringly obvious candidate who's already filled out all the paperwork. So, on behalf of our record label, there's a position as a professional roadie with your name on it."

Louis swallows in surprise, blinking a few times, and then speaks. "That's all good and well, but you couldn't have _called_ to tell me that? You came five thousand miles to offer me practically the same job I got through a letter three months ago?"

Harry visibly bristles, frowning. "I was already in town."

"You were in Doncaster?"

"I was nearby. Close enough."

"Doing what?"

"Does it matter? Do you want the job or not?"

Louis cards his fingers through his hair, thinking at a million miles per hour. Leave home for the states again on a whim, travel the country with the oddest most unlikely group he's ever known. Travel the country by Harry's side. How is he supposed to manage that. Louis would miss his birthday with his family, he'd miss christmas. No reasonable person would dive into that without substantial consideration. 

So of course, there's not a chance in hell Louis is saying no. 

"Yeah, of course I want the job."

"Good because you have tickets booked, your flight leaves tomorrow."

" _Tomorrow_?" Louis gapes, jaw falling open. 

"Show biz moves fast, Lewis. I suggest you start packing. Though, of course, you may want to unpack the last trip first," Harry nods at the large, full suitcase by the bed. 

"Will you be flying back with me?"

"Of course not, why would I?"

"I-I don't know," Louis stammers weakly. "I just thought, because we're both going to the same place-"

"You thought wrong," Harry cuts him off, shrugging. "2pm tomorrow a taxi will arrive at your house. Get in it, they'll give you the rest of the information from there." Harry starts to turn to the door, but freezes for a second, considering. He turns back, walking over to Louis and kissing the corner of his mouth so softly Louis might have imagined it. 

"Welcome aboard, Roadie."

-

Harry leaves just as quickly as he appeared, in a black car waiting on the curb for him. Fizzy all but attacks Louis as soon as the other boy is out of the door. 

"Harry Styles came to our house and you didn't even warn me beforehand? Louis!"

"Honestly I had no idea he'd be here," Louis says distractedly, thinking at a million and miles per hour. "Where's Mum?"

"Work, duh. What did he want? Why was he here? Why didn't he stay very long?"

"He was offering me a job. When does Mum get back from work?"

"Same as always, 6:00! What kind of job?"

"Felicite! You don't need all the answers! Lottie -" Louis whips around to face his sister who looks disapprovingly shocked. "Watch the girls, I need to go upstairs and pack."

"You're leaving? Again?" 

"Yes, I'm - yeah, I'm going back to the states. Following them on tour, it's a great job I can't pass that down."

"Mum's going to be devastated."

Louis slows for a second, letting his shoulders slump. "She'll understand."

"Of course she will, but she misses you. We're all used to having you around. Just remember that it wasn't Los Angeles or the promise of money and recognition that you'll want to return to one day, it's us, Lou."

-

Louis is anxiously hyperactive until his mum comes home. He knows she'll be supportive of him leaving again, but loathes that it may come at the cost of hurting her feelings. 

He trudges down into the kitchen as soon as she gets home, finding her by the fridge unpacking a few groceries. 

"Hi Mum."

"Oh hi, love, how was your day?"

"It was…it was, um…" Louis cracks his knuckles nervously. "I got a job."

Jay looks up. "That's great! Where at?"

"Um...Los Angeles? Mum, Harry came and offered me a job. Tour photographer."

"Harry? Harry Styles? At our house, goodness. That's very…" Jay sets down her grocery bag on the counter. "Lou, will you be leaving again?"

"Yeah," Louis murmurs softly. "Mum it's such a good opportunity, it's payment, it's travelling, it's recognition...I've always wanted all of that."

"No, of course Louis, that's very special. I'm always proud of you. But your sisters miss you and I miss you and...I don't want you to miss out on your life here."

"It's just a couple months, Mum, then I'll be home."

Jay sighs heavily, looking resigned. "And you won't lose your head in the fame, doll?"

"Course not."

"Call often?"

"I promise."

"Then go. Live your life, my love. But never forget to come home."

\---

Louis is a nervous wreck. He's a frantic, hyperventilating mess with two suitcases and a cluttered room. 

Sure he's been to LA before but that was with weeks of warning. He was practically drowning in time to make proper packing lists and sort out his shit before he left. Now he's had barely 24 hours and he doesn't know how to handle himself. 

It's only 11am, which leaves Louis with a few hours before the taxi arrives to shuffle him away to the airport. 

He should be able to finish if he can just stay on task. One shirt after another, he folds and tucks them into his larger suitcase neatly. Always one for organization of luggage, Louis. 

He does the same with his underwear and pajama bottoms, and he's about to start with jumpers and sweaters when his bedroom door is unceremoniously thrown open. Louis is about to chew out his sisters for never remembering to knock, when Harry trips in, slamming the door shut behind him. Louis freezes on his floor, clutching his jumpers in hand limply. 

"There's been a change of plans," Harry says breathlessly, scraping his hair out of his face. "I will be flying back to America with you."

"How did you get into the house?" Louis demands, fully affronted. 

"Your sister let me in. The little one," Harry shrugs. 

"God, they let anyone into the house, don't they."

"They fucking know me."

"They don't know you, they've seen you on TV! You could be a kidnapper, or a psycho murderer."

"Well, I'm not," Harry says huffily. "I don't even like kids."

"Doubtless, they don't like you either," Louis quips back before he can stop himself. He places a jumper carefully next to his sweatpants. "Why are you here? You look horrible."

It's true. In stark contrast to his poised appearance yesterday, Harry's now dressed down in sweatpants and a t-shirt. His hair looks like it was pulled up at one point, but somewhere along the way he lost the hairband holding it together, but most of all, he looks tired and hollow and breathless. 

"Haven't been sleeping," Harry mutters casually, stepping around Louis and his mess strewn on the floor in order to sit on the bed. "I was chased here but I lost them a few blocks back."

"Chased? Chased by who? Are you leading people to my _house_?"

"Overzealous fan girls, nothing I can't handle. They'll give up after they can't find me for a minute."

"Where the hell is your security team?"

"Well that's the change of plans," Harry leans back on Louis's bed. "I ditched them. I was supposed to fly out a couple hours after you but I needed to fucking...not be watched for awhile. I changed both of our tickets to a flight that leaves in…" Harry checks his watch. "57 minutes."

"That gives me barely any time to finish packing!" Louis presses on his temples. Life used to be so sweetly uncomplicated. "Why did you have to drag me into this?"

"It'd be unsafe to travel alone."

"As if I'll be taking any punches for you," Louis rolls his eyes. "Does Liam know?"

"Of course not, he'd never allow it. I put my PPOs on a false trail, they shouldn't figure out where we are till we're already in the air."

"Fuck."

"It's not that serious, Lewis."

"If you come into my house and call me the wrong fucking name I swear to God I'll kick you out."

"Wanker," Harry mutters. "Finish packing, we're getting an Uber in 20 minutes."

Louis wants to be so pissed off at Harry for making stupid, reckless decisions and dragging him into it - and logically, he is - but the rest of his overwhelmed brain can only look at Harry sunk back into his bed, staring vacantly at the ceiling, and the way his shirt rides up just enough to expose the laurel tattoos on his stomach. Louis wishes they could talk. Of kissing, of why Harry looks so sad and tired, of anything else.

If he was bolder, Louis would ask, but he's not, so he remains silent and packs his things faster. 

He manages to finish just in time (no thanks to Harry) and drags his things down the stairs where Harry deigns to assist him in carrying them to the Uber. Louis's goodbyes to his sisters are much more rushed than last time, which makes him feel even guiltier. At least he already said goodbye to his mum before she left for work this morning. He promises to text when his plane lands and gives a last round of hugs before jogging down the front walk to join Harry in the car. 

They're both in the backseat, which seems uncalled for, given the empty passenger seat, but Louis privately doesn't mind. 

Up close, Harry looks worse than ever. His skin is lake to the point of being nearly translucent and his eyes are lined with shadows. Louis wonders how long Harry meant when he said he hadn't been sleeping. He watches Harry tap his chewed-down nails compulsively on his knee, unable to hold still. 

"Are you okay?" Louis asks finally, keeping his voice low. 

"I'm fine," Harry replies shortly, staring straight ahead. 

"We can just call Liam and we don't have to-"

"No. Liam will call eventually once he figures out where we are, but we're fine till then."

"Harry, you look a mess."

"I left my medication at the house in LA, the only thing I was able to get here was a shitty low-grade painkiller that I can't take till we get on the plane because it makes me disoriented. I'm fine."

"Fine. I'm sorry I asked," Louis prickles. 

"So am I."

Well, it's nice to see nothing changed and Harry's just as distant and bothered as he always is. At least some things stay consistent. 

The drive to the airport isn't long, and their driver politely helps them unload Louis's luggage. Harry's carrying nothing, but Louis decided against asking him why. 

Before going into the building, Harry fishes a hoodie from Louis's suitcase and puts sunglasses on, despite the cloudy sky. 

"There shouldn't be anyone watching us here, but just in case."

Getting baggage tagged always takes forever, but security is fast and they make it to their gate just as the attendant calls boarding for group A. Louis is about to take a seat but Harry pulls him up. 

"We're group A."

"Group is is first class - you got us first class tickets the day of the flight? That must have cost a fortune.

"My one good trait is being made of money," Harry says grimly. 

As soon as they're seated, Louis realizes the downside of first class is that it takes everyone else forever to board. Harry fishes a pharmacy bottle from his pocket and unscrews it, shaking a few pills into his palm and taking them dry. 

"Don't talk to me for a couple hours," he advises. 

"You're a joy to travel with."

"And you're my last resort."

Louis decides he won't stoop low enough to reply to that. 

It's a nine hour flight. There's a fussy child behind them and Louis sort of wants to kick something. Not the child, but... something. Harry zoned out for most of the flight - not napped, napping would be preferable, no. He just stared straight ahead and shut down completely for hours. The flight attendant actually came by and asked him if he needed help and Louis was forced to make up for Harry's silence by saying he has chronic catatonia. Which he's pretty sure is a lie. He prays to God she doesn't recognize him as Harry Styles and just thinks he's some weird kid. After that he puts sunglasses on Harry and hopes everyone assumes he's asleep. 

Towards the end of the flight, Louis's legs are numb from sitting too long. Harry's finally emerged from his stupor, but he seems increasingly agitated. 

"I feel like throwing up," he murmurs, shutting his eyes. 

Louis instinctively leans away. "If you do it on me I'll never fucking forgive you," he warns. 

"Stop talking." Harry leans forwards, resting his head in his arms and starts to murmur, a patterned, low chant. 

Louis listens in, cocking his head. "Are you speaking English or having a stroke?"

"French," Harry murmurs. "Counting in French. It distracts from the nausea."

"Why on god's name do you speak French? You're a Brit living in America."

Harry looks up, scrunching his nose the way he does when he's trying to decide whether or not to say something. "I went to school in France for a bit when I was a child."

Louis is genuinely curious at that. He was obsessed with going to paris when he was a kid, had posters of the eiffel tower and everything. "Why France?"

"My... stepfather was a producer. He shot two films on location in Paris. I was little, I learned the language. Mostly." Harry furrows his brow and looks out the window, falling silent. 

When they land in LA, it's the same time it was when they left Doncaster because of the time difference, but much much more sunny and crowded. As they disembark, Harry puts his sunglasses back on, pulling the hood on his sweatshirt up. 

"Chances are, someone here will know who I am, it'll be harder to get out of the building now. Keep a low profile and if they ask you something, you don't have to say anything."

They make it through the terminal and to the baggage claim to gather Louis's luggage, and Louis is starting to think maybe they'll get off easy when a flash goes off in their direction. 

"Harry! Hey, Harry! Back in the states, yeah? Where were you, buddy? Quick pre-tour vacation?" A pouchy middle aged man slung with cameras begins dancing around them, snapping pictures. 

As if on cue, a flock of other paps lurking for a winning shot crowd around them, shouting questions that all seem to blend together. Harry grabs Louis's other suitcase and shuffles them towards the rotating doors leading outside where taxis line up to collect passengers, keeping his head down. 

Louis tries to shield his eyes from the flashes going off. He's been on the photographer's end of this gig countless times but being on the other side of it is nothing short of overwhelming. 

"Harry, who are you traveling with? Where y'all headed? Got any weekend plans?"

"Harry, mate, you look ill, anything going on? Nothing to hide, have ya?"

Harry glances back at the photographer, smiling his placid, camera smile. "Coming off of the tail end of a cold this week. Excuse me, good day gentleman."

They manage to shoulder their way out of the crowded building and hail a taxi, tossing all of Louis's things in the trunk and sliding inside the cab. As soon as they start pulling out of the terminal parking, Harry's phone rings. He glances down at it, seeing the caller, and answers with a roll of his eyes. 

"Yes Liam?"

"Where the _fuck_ have you been?"

Even across the seat from Harry, Louis can hear Liam's raging voice. 

"Ditching your PPOs, Harry? Do you have any idea how risky that was?"

"We're fine, we're in LA headed to the house right now, it's no big deal."

"No big deal? Harry, you could have-"

"Great, I'll see you in ten minutes."

"Don't hang up on me, Harry Styles-"

Harry ends the call with a flat punch of his finger, tossing his phone down. "Could be worse."

"Harry, he's pissed."

"Well, he's been more pissed," Harry huffs. 

"He better not blame me," Louis grumbles. "If you fail to take credit for even a tiny bit of this, I'll-"

"You'll what? Take a picture of me? God Louis, stop running your mouth for one minute."

Louis faces front, crossing his arms. This morning when Harry sat on his bed looking languid and sleepy, there was a moment when Louis might have been brave enough to talk to him, really talk to him. Because Harry's worth that. As much as Louis resents it, he fucking cares. About Harry, about honesty. 

But every time he gets close to acting on it, it's as if Harry goes out of his way to make it clear that he doesn't care, and Louis is naught but a consistent nuisance. 

Three months of touring, practically squashed together is already starting to feel claustrophobic. 

When they arrive at the house, Harry doesn't even offer to help Louis with his things, he tosses his door open and strides up the drive. So Louis hauls his bags out of the back and pays the driver himself - Louis isn't one for handouts but given that Harry has a net worth of at least several million more than Louis, he thinks he could have at least paid off the cabbie. 

Even in his brooding, something in Louis gives a sigh of relief as he tugs his suitcases up the driveway towards the house. It's not his home but..he belongs here, in some way. 

Before Louis can get even halfway up the drive, the front door opens and a familiar blonde tears out, tripping down the walkway. 

"Louis!" Niall hollers, colliding with him in a terrific tangle of limbs. "You're back! You made it! I knew you'd say yes," he slaps Louis's chest.

Louis grins. It really is good to be back, he missed Niall. "Of course I said. Miss your debut tour? Never."

"We're going to tour together, can you believe that? That's some once in a lifetime shit! Here, let me grab a bag - er, you may want to cover your ears inside. Liam's going a bit batshit on Harry. Serves him right, utter wanker."

With Niall's help, they tug Louis's things up the front walk and toss them in the hall. True to Niall's warning, Liam is going off on Harry, who's standing on the staircase smoking a cigarette, looking annoyed.

"- any idea why you'd think that's okay. If something happened, what would you have done?"

"Louis was there," Harry huffs. "It's not as off I was alone."

"Even worse! You endangered Louis, that was just so incredibly irresponsible on every level - I shouldn't have let you go without me at all. God, if anything happened it could have cost me my job-"

"Is that all you care about, Liam? The job?" Harry's voice rises dangerously, his eyes glint sharply. 

"I care about the job because it's the only fucking thing between you and your shit management team who don't give a _damn_ about your feelings!"

Harry falls silent, glowering. "I'm going upstairs," he says finally, spinning on his heel with a touch too much aggression. 

"You're eating dinner with us later!" Liam calls after him. "You're not spending Louis's first day back sulking in your room like you did last time!"

"Last time I wasn't even here, I was locked in a hotel room having a fucking breakdown, which apparently was forgotten because you don't give a shit about me!" Harry's shout back fades away as he stomps up the stairs. His bedroom door slamming shut can be heard seconds later. 

"Fuck," Liam says, massaging his temples and turning around. Zayn's leaning on the wall watching the proceedings silently, and Liam touches his shoulder. "He tests me every day. God, Hi Louis, I'm so sorry about that," Liam leans over and pulls Louis into a quick hug. "Never lacking for drama here, are we?"

"I got used to it," Louis says, only half joking. He reaches over and grabs Zayn, hugging him as well. The younger boy hugs him tighter than the rest, holding on a bit longer. 

"We missed you," he mumbles. "Seriously, it's been such a nightmare."

Louis pulls away, studying Zayn's handsomely petulant face. "Why, what happened?"

"Harry's been off his shit for two weeks, he's driving us all up the fucking wall. Liam almost checked him into the psych ward at the hospital a week ago because for days straight all he did was get pissed drunk by 5pm and start yelling at people."

"Zayn," Liam sighs. "Don't say that."

"What? If we can't tell Louis stuff, who can we tell? Besides, he'll be trapped in a tour bus with us in less than two weeks, this is a safety precaution of nothing else."

"Fine, yeah," Liam agrees tiredly. "I just thought if I sent him to England to get you he would be sufficiently distracted, but..I guess that didn't work." Liam looks troubled, but shakes his head after a moment. "Anyways, enough about Harry, this is your day, Lou. You're in the same room as last time, I'll have our housekeepers take your luggage up so don't worry about that. Go um, shower, sleep, whatever you need to do and...it's good to have you back, Louis."

-

Dinner is exactly as tense as you'd expect it to be between a fuming, drunk teenager, an equally pressed handler, his sullen boyfriend and two innocents caught in between. Louis thinks if it weren't for Niall's cheerful disposition he'd have gotten up and left by now. 

"Potatoes, anyone?" Niall offers, passing the bowl off to Harry, who slides it listlessly to Zayn, knocking against the latter's glass. 

"For god's sale, Harry, could you not come to dinner drunk for once?"

"I'm not even drunk," Harry slurs, blinking slowly. "Just enough to tolerate you."

There's a pause of infinitely tense silence, followed by Liam slamming down his fork. He kicks his chair back and walks out of the room wordlessly. 

"Jesus christ, Haz," Zayn whispers. "Do you always have to break his heart?"

"Break his heart? Break his heart? My shitty week is difficult for him? God I'm so sorry."

"You treat him like shit half the time and meanwhile he can't even sleep because he's worried he's not doing enough for us. You're the problem."

"Yeah, it's always me, isn't it?"

Zayn stands up suddenly, the chandelier reflecting off of his eyes and glinting sharply. "You're always so _fucking_ selfish, aren't you?" Zayn spins around and follows out the way Liam left. 

Harry clenches his jaw. "Well would anyone else like to pick a fucking fight since I'm drunk and such a problem?"

Niall shakes his head, scooping more potatoes. "Jesus, go to bed, Harry?"

"And do what? I don't fucking sleep," Harry spits, pushing back from the table harshly. For the second time today he can be heard stomping up the steps to the second floor.

Niall sighs, looking at Louis glumly. "Welcome back, I suppose."

-

In the end it's the jetlag that keeps Louis up. He passed the window of acceptable tiredness a while ago so he could stay up for dinner and now he's looped back around to being wide awake again. 

If he's being honest he wishes he could just sleep but instead he's filled with aimless, distracted energy. Louis unpacks his first suitcase to fill the time, but it doesn't take very long. He already knows where everything goes because it's the exact same spots they were in last time.

Louis kicks the empty suitcase aside and sits on the edge of the bed with his phone. At the very top of his notifications is a single text:

_**Harry: are you awake?** _

Louis dips his head back in annoyance. He's not so easy that he'll let Harry walk all over him and everyone else all day, act like a drunken prick and fuck him before passing out. He clicks into the message and types out a reply. 

_**Me: no** _

He looks at his phone screen, waiting pathetically for a reply until he realizes that his last text doesn't really invite one. Enough of this, he's getting ready for bed. Louis already discovered earlier that no one remembered to stock his bathroom with soap and toothpaste, so he nips across the hall and opens the door, stopping abruptly when he hits something solid. Louis peeks in; at this point he's not even fucking surprised to see Harry anymore. At least he's not passed out in the tub. 

"Uh. Hi, excuse me."

Harry looks up weakly from where he's slumped over, leaning on the toilet. "Go away, Louis."

Louis hovers awkwardly. Sure Harry's a nightmare on wheels but he's sort of pitifully situated right now."Do you need...help?"

"Oh I'd never want to trouble you. You're far too good for me, you've just made that abundantly clear," waves his phone clutched in his other hand vaguely to make his point. 

Louis leans on the door jamb, crossing his arms. "Can you blame me for being pissed? Are you really going to crucify me for that when you've been nothing but a prick since yesterday? Every time I open my mouth you shut me down."

"I haven't slept!"

"You can't use that as an excuse for _everything_ , Harry!"

"Why not! I could fucking die like this! And everyone will have been telling me to stop being an ass up until my last breaths."

"God you're so fucking dramatic," Louis prods Harry's leg with his foot. "Get up, go shower."

"You're not going to help me?"

"You said you didn't want help," Louis shrugs. Harry makes a soft whining in the back of his throat. It's so piteously weak that Louis feels bad for a second, remembering the soaringly few gentle moments he's seen Harry in. That's the person he's resentfully fond of - not the belligerent alcoholic, but the boy who whimpers when he doesn't get his way and falls asleep when someone brushes his hair. 

Louis reaches over him, grabbing the toothpaste from the counter. "I'll be in my room when you're done."

He shuts the door behind him before Harry can reply. 

After brushing his teeth and changing into new, clean sweatpants, Louis detours down to the kitchen where he finds a large jar and mixes three packets of Emergen-C and water together and carries it back upstairs. 

Harry shuffles into the room only a couple minutes later. Even freshly showered, he still looks terrible. 

"You're a nightmare," Louis states, holding out the jar. "Drink this - all of it. It'll make you look less like a Tim Burton drawing."

Harry sniffs the drink suspiciously. "Are you poisoning me?"

"If I was, it would only be for your health at this point." 

"Tastes like orange shit," Harry wrinkles his nose. "Fizzy orange stomach acid."

Louis flops back onto the bed, propping his head on the pile of pillows. "Tastes better than succumbing to liver failure, which is where you're headed."

Louis watches on drowsily as Harry finishes the drink with a substantial amount of huffing noises and sets the glass down. 

"Can I sit now, or do you have another punishment lined up for me?"

"That was for your own good and you know it," Louis informs him, scooting to the side slightly. Harry falls into the bed, shamelessly finding Louis's body and tucking the curve of his spine against Louis' chest.

Harry feels painstakingly fragile under Louis's touch. Like his skin is too papery and his bones too brittle and his heartbeat is just too big to be contained in that delicate cage. 

"When's the last time you slept?" Louis asks, making his voice soft. 

"I dunno. Three days, maybe four." Harry's words are slow and deep, dragging along tiredly. 

"That's so bad," Louis murmurs. Harry shifts in his arms, his chest tensing up. 

"I know that. I _know_ that. But when it's just me and two PPOs there's no one around when the sun goes down, and they won't even give me sleeping pills because I don't 'have a prescription' so all that's left to do us keep the lights on and hope I don't fall asleep."

"What happens when you fall asleep?"

"Nightmares. Sometimes... I'll have these nightmares so bad they feel like they're being ripped out of my chest. I don't even breathe, I just cry for it to stop." Harry's voice is barely audible, the thinnest whisper. 

Louis's throat tightens painfully, and he brings his hand up to Harry's chest, touching his fingertips to his sternum. He looks so fucking perfect on the surface, every inch of him. But everything under that is a broken, sick body and mind. It's almost Shakespearean poetic that all of his beauty should only house everything painful.

Something horrible happened to Harry, more so than Louis could ever imagine, and it worked its way into every part of him, controlling his life in ways that he's no longer able to. 

Louis is struck bluntly with abject sadness for it all. The same way that he shelters his sisters, he wishes he could lift up some of Harry's pain and take it away, even just for a moment. It's a great and terrible sort of realization for Louis that he could care that much. He's never cared to that degree for anyone but his family, his own flesh and blood. 

Louis couldn't adjust to returning home because, utterly by accident, he left a piece of his heart with Harry, and he knows - painfully - Louis knows that Harry doesn't have the capacity to care enough in return. The worst part is that it isn't his fault, that sort of ability to love was stolen from him. 

There's no future for them here, not one that ends in anything but bitter resentment. But there is a present, and there's three months on the road ahead of them. Three months where Harry doesn't have to be anything or anyone for him. Three months where he doesn't have to sleep alone and wake up terrified. 

It's a fraction of time in the bigger picture, but maybe Louis can give him that, at least. One piece of normal. Even if it means nothing, Louis can leave knowing that he tried, and at the very least, he fucking cared about the boy hiding behind the mask. 

"Are you still awake?" Harry's voice breaks through the darkness, softer than ever. 

"Yeah," Louis clears his throat. "Just thinking."

"About what?"

"You going the fuck to sleep already.",

Harry huffs, his breath a warm puff on Louis's arm. "I can't. I'm afraid I'll wake up."

"You mean you're afraid you won't wake up?" Louis creases his eyebrows, questioning. 

"No, I'm afraid I'll wake up screaming."

"You won't," Louis tells him simply.

"How can you be sure?"

"Because I said so. And you're going to fall asleep knowing that you're absolutely not allowed to have nightmares."

"Fucking bullshit," Harry mumbles groggily. "You're full of shit."

"Close your eyes,"nLouis advises. "And your mouth."

They're both quiet after that, but Louis lays awake for a long time still, until Harry's breathing falls into a deep rhythm and Louis is absolutely sure he's asleep. Hopefully it's unbothered rest and he's not too hung over when he wakes up. 

Louis inches his tingling, numb out from under Harry, rolling away slightly. The man's resting body temperature is 100°, Louis swears it's like sleeping next to a furnace. A pliant furnace, with soft hair who snores gently. 

Louis closes his eyes. If any luck, Harry will still be there when he wakes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Helllooooo! Sorry this took FOREVER to be updated, I've truly had a terrible week that became incredibly time consuming, but I'm pulling back from that and trying to write some more.
> 
> I was updating my master playlist for the fic earlier and thinking about songs for it so my request to you guys is that you all share any/all songs that remind you of this work because me and my best friend that helps me with executive plot decisions absolutely LOVE finding new songs for it. Someone commented a song on the last chapter and it ended up fitting AMAZINGLY, I added it to my playlist.
> 
> Also, I made an instagram page @heavenaintclosehere that I'm gonna use to post moodboard pics and related things but mostly I'll use it to keep y'all in the loop about posting/take polls on what you wanna see/post writing snippets before I actually upload chapters. Even if it's literally only three of you guys that follow, that'll be our mf club either way. Mainly I just want to have a way to connect with you guys about updates because unlike wattpad it's not so easy to post little author's notes chapters here if I'm gonna be absent for awhile or if a chapter is running late etc etc.
> 
> Okay this note us running on so I'll be quiet now but plz go follow that page if you want and I hope you liked the chapter and are having a lovely year so far :) 💕


	24. Chapter 24

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW for substantial discussion of suicide in this chapter!!! Please proceed with caution if the topic is triggering for you!

Within a week, Louis has fallen back into a routine. Well, it's less of a routine and more of a general expectation of how life is. Course, they're leaving in nine days so he can hardly get comfortable, but it's nice for the time being nevertheless.

Louis has to sign a second round of paperwork (he thought, perhaps, since he was already employed, there wouldn't be much, but it turns out that was only the first half) Liam drags him to the management HQ about twice a day to do everything from get his ID scanned so he can get a staff pass card and bypass security at any time once they hit the road, to getting his own picture taken to go in their legal books. It feels an awful lot like a mugshot, if Louis is being honest. 

At the house, it's mostly quiet with an air of agitation. The others are nervous, Louis can tell. Niall plays at being excited and nothing else, but it's clear that he has his own share of nerves to work through. 

And Harry is Harry. Most of the time he's as distant as ever during the day, but he seems to have taken up a semi-permanent residence on the left side of Louis's bed, come nighttime. It doesn't take long for Louis to pick up the pattern - Harry seems to sleep for an hour or two around the general time 11:00 or 12:00, lay awake the rest of the night and then doze off again at 7ish only to get up an hour later. 

Louis would say something about it, but he doubts Harry would appreciate the intervention. And some sleep is better than none anyways. 

-

It's a sunny Monday afternoon that finds Louis in his room. He's been trying to empty his camera roll onto a hard drive but for whatever reason his computer is being exceedingly difficult and has failed to complete the task three times in a row. Maybe he needs to use his first paycheck to buy a new laptop. 

Louis stretches out, tipping his chair back and using his feet as a counterbalance. Maybe it's time he takes a break. He could go downstairs and have the whole place to himself. Liam's got the other boys at fittings for their tour outfits, Louis is pretty sure they're still gone. 

No sooner has he thought that, does he hear a noise down the hall at the stairwell.

Shit, maybe they are back after all.

A recognizable set of footsteps sounds down the hall and seconds later, Louis's bedroom door kicks open. Harry stands in the entrance, his jaw hard set and his eyes flashing. It doesn't take an expert to guess that he's in a less than pleasant mood. 

He knocks the door shut behind him and strides over to Louis. "What are you doing for the next fifteen minutes?"

Louis frowns, instinctively moving his rolling chair back a couple inches. "Glaring at my laptop, why?"

"Because I've had a bad fucking day and I need this right now," Harry pulls his shirt over his head, tossing it to the ground. 

Louis rocks back in his hair, stalling for a second. He'd hoped, probably foolishly, that their first time getting off since Louis came back would be under more delicate circumstances. At the very least, when Harry wasn't visibly shaking and distraught. But Louis should have known that was unrealistic. 

He stands up, pulling off his own shirt and dropping back onto the bed. "Why fifteen minutes?" Louis asks, lifting his hips and wiggling out of his jeans. 

"Because I've got another _fucking meeting_ at three, Liam only dropped me off for fifteen. Told him I needed my phone."

Louis tries not to take too much gratification in the fact that the implication underneath that statement is that he actually needed Louis.

He allows his head to fall back into the pillows, making his body relax. Harry is sloppier than usual, and a little rougher. When he pushes in, Louis curls his fingers into the comforter, making a noise of discomfort. 

"Slower would be nice," he pants, putting his free hand on Harry's chest. 

Harry grunts in acknowledgement, slowing down just enough to be acceptable. He slides one hand under Louis's waist, holding him near, and uses the other to brace himself on the bed, leaning into rest his head in the crook of Louis's neck and pressing open mouthed kisses to his skin. 

Louis shuts his eyes, breathing him in slowly. Sweat and warm skin and smoky cigarettes. If Harry turned his head even slightly, Louis could kiss him. He'd do it, too, reckless in a way that only a sex hazed brain can be. 

But Harry doesn't turn his head, he keeps it pressed against Louis's shoulder, and even as Louis is pushed over the edge coming with breathy whines, he feels unsatisfied and rushed. Harry's hardly still for even a moment before he separates himself from Louis and stands up, fumbling his way to the bathroom and shutting the door. 

Louis lays still for a moment, catching his breath, before sitting up reluctantly. He's getting really fucking tired of changing his bedding at this frequency. That was the nice thing about being back in Doncaster, he didn't change his bedding once in three weeks. He peels off the comforter and leaves it in a nicely folded bundle where the housekeeper will come by and pick it up on her rounds. That poor poor woman. Between himself and Harry's and Zayn and Liam, Louis thinks she has the least enviable job in the world. 

Harry comes out of the bathroom, his jeans back on but his shirt is still on the floor where he left it. He pulls a cigarette from his pocket and lights it with trembling hands, before crossing the room and sitting on the chair in front of the window. 

Louis twists his fingers back and forth, chewing the corner of his lip. "What happened?"

Harry looks up, glowering. "What?"

"You said you had a shit day, what happened?"

"I didn't ask to talk, Louis."

"I know that, but it might help."

"Well it won't help if it doesn't _change_ anything!" Harry spits. He drags on the cigarette and exhales the smoke slowly. "Doesn't change the day or the outcome or the fucking tour - you know, I never wanted to go on this bloody tour. It was a money deal, nothing else. We were basically told if we didn't do it, we wouldn't be getting anymore work from them or anyone else worth their money. Zayn settled, Niall's perfectly excited, but I'd never do it, given the choice. It's just another way for them to prop us in front of a crowd and make us sing. Literally sing." Harry's eyes are dark with resentment. He tips the ashes from the end of his cigarette onto the floor, carelessly. "It's not going to end well." Harry pauses, and laughs humorlessly. "I'd be surprised if I made it to the end."

Louis's throat tightens, restricting his breathing uncomfortably. "What do you mean if you make it to the end?"

"I'm just saying, I just think it'd be horribly ironic if the frontman of a band stitched together from Disney stars killed himself during a debut tour. Disney _\- the happiest place on earth_. That'd be a final fuck you to management, wouldn't it? Good luck getting that money back."

Louis creases his brow, horrified. "Why would you say that? The boys would be devastated. Zayn's said it himself, you lot are the only family he has. How could you do that to them?"

"Because they'd understand that was my only way to finally be free! One day, they'd understand."

"That isn't fair to them."

"Life isn't fair," Harry states flatly. He leans back and sucks on the cigarette again. "I think I'd do it at the end. They say go out with a bang." Harry's voice is filled with sick relishing.

Louis is silent for a second, filled with nausea. He pushes his hair back. "You're not going to your second meeting today."

Harry rolls his eyes. "Fat chance."

"You're sitting here talking about-" Louis breaks off, beginning to pace. "I genuinely think it would be immoral of me to not make sure you got a break right now."

"If I could take breaks I wouldn't be fucking suicidal, Louis!"

"Well at the very least you could call Liam and ask!"

"He's going to tell me no and that I make things difficult for him, just like he always does!"

"Maybe you just need to tell him that you won't be going!" Louis's voice has reached a shout without him even realizing. "No one is going to come to the house and arrest you for taking half a day off!" He raises his hand, throwing it up to emphasize his point, and Harry flinches back in his chair violently. It takes Louis a second to put two and two together, and he lowers his hand slowly. 

Harry looks down, picking at a loose thread on the knee of his jeans. He looks ever so slightly curled in on himself protectively. Louis hates that he's responsible for that, for scaring him. 

"I'm just... I'm going to call Liam," Louis mumbles. "Maybe you'll get lucky." He backs out of the room and hits Liam's speed dial icon, leaning against the hallway wall. Liam answers on the second ring through. 

"Hiiiii," he sing-songs. "What's up?"

"Um, what are the chances of Harry getting out of the next thing you need him for? The meeting or whatever?"

Liam sighs heavily on the other end. "Not amazing, why?"

"He's just…" Louis trails off. "He really needs it okay, I know it's fucking annoying but if you could pull some strings or something, please. He's in this mood, he's- I think he needs breathing room. Really needs it."

Another heavy sigh. "Yeah he can be absent, I'll make his excuses. He went to the fitting so...we needed that more, it shouldn't be too hard."

"Thank you," Louis exhales. "He's, I mean, I'm sure he'll be grateful."

"Doubt it because he's Harry, but a pleasant thought nonetheless." Liam can be heard giving instructions to their driver on the other end. "Well I'm going to get back to it, I'll be back with the other two in a bit. Make sure Harry's not face up in a ditch somewhere on his afternoon off."

"I'll try," Louis grimaces. "Bye."

"Bye."

Louis shuffles back into the room and drops his phone on the bed. "You're off the hook."

Harry leans his head back on the chair, shutting his eyes. "How?"

"Because Liam's a nice person and you don't thank him enough."

"You have no idea how much I do or don't thank Liam." Harry takes a final drag on his cigarette and stubs it out on his jeans. "So now what, I sit in the house, fucking miserable, for the rest of the day? So much fun, thanks, Louis." His words are cutting but his eyes remain closed, sounding out his exhaustion. 

"Do something." Louis takes a step closer to him. He places his hand on Harry's neck, forcing his chin up slightly. "You don't have to be miserable every moment of every day, something makes you happy."

Harry opens his eyes, blinking up at Louis slowly. He looks so pretty and helpless with his jaw in Louis's palm, allowing himself to be held. "Nothing makes me _happy_. Some things just make me less sad."

It's less careful consideration and more impulse that Louis follows, a need to be nearer, to feel Harry's skin, to remember that he's solid even when it seems like he's not here. He leans down and kisses Harry's parted lips. It's so stupid how much Louis wants him in the simplest ways. 

After a second of hesitation, Harry relaxes his shoulders and kisses him back, hardly meeting his lips at first but when Louis slides his hand back into Harry's hair, Harry pulls him into his lap and holds his waist, kissing him properly. 

Louis hasn't done very many drugs but he imagines it can't be more intoxicating than this. Nothing is sweeter than Harry. He drags his thumb over Harry's cheekbone gently, feeling the warmth of his skin. He's so alive when he allows himself to be. Louis wishes he could feel this heartbeat, this life inside of him always. 

Harry pulls back slowly, swiping his tongue over Louis's bottom lip, and rests his head in the groove of Louis's neck. 

Louis holds the back of his head, curling a strand of Harry's hair around his finger. "Maybe you'll like touring?" He suggests in a low voice. 

"I won't." Harry's response is muffled against his skin. 

"Nothing about hot boys in the front row who would do anything for you is appealing?"

Louis can feel Harry smiling in spite of himself. "A little. But I can't exactly hook up with random fans, there's a binder full of paperwork involved. Completely ruins the mood."

Louis is debating whether or not he should make a comment about how at least he's already done all the paperwork, but Harry moves him off his lap carefully and stands up. 

"I'm going to go take a shower."

"Wait," Louis catches Harry's fingertips before he turns around. Perhaps too fond of a gesture, but he tries not to overthink. "You're not, um...you're not going to…?" He falters through his words, hung up on Harry's earlier confessions.

"Going to march downstairs and tragically take my own life in the kitchen with Liam's fucking ' _weekend breakfast'_ soundtrack playing?" There's a hint of humor in Harry's face as he shakes his head. "I really am just going to take a shower."

"Okay good. Um, good."

"Yeah."

-

Louis sort of figures that was the last of Harry for the day. He'll disappear off in a cloudy mood the way he does, and if they're lucky, he'll resurface to half-sleep restlessly next to Louis. 

So he's surprised when Harry comes knocking on his door an hour later, inviting himself to step inside. 

Louis glances up from his computer. He's pretty sure he finally got it to transfer his files, thank God. "Hi?"

"Hi," Harry leans on the wall, twisting a keychain in his hands. Dressed in 90s cuffed jeans and a button-up under an overlarge sweatshirt, he looks like one of those e-boy trends. Casually moppish and elegant. "I'm going out."

"Oh. Okay. Have fun."

Harry stays where he is, sucking on his lower lip for a moment. "I'm not allowed to drive alone. Medication."

Louis looks up again. "Can you not have your chauffeur drive? Doesn't he usually ferry you all when you go clubbing?"

"I'm not going clubbing, I'm getting out of the house," Harry looks annoyed. "Running errands, normal... things. I do other things besides nightclubs and TV shows, you know."

"Really?" Louis smirks. "Because I've never seen -"

Harry huffs, turning around and flipping his shades over his eyes. "Get in the fucking car, Louis."

Louis meets Harry out front after changing out of his sweatpants into more travel-appropriate attire. Harry's already waiting for him in the convertible, engine running. 

"So before I drive with you," Louis leads, sliding into the passenger seat. "What's the risk factor with this medication you're on?"

Harry frowns, glancing back as he reverses down the drive. "Oh, well, it's pretty serious. I'll have these seizures - I was emergency hospitalized twice. More commonly though, it's violent impulses, uncontrollable god. It's so bad. The seizures are worse though, definitely worse. And dangerous."

Louis swallows, gripping the arm rest on his chair. "What? That's fucking horrible."

"Well it's pretty rare so we're probably not in any real danger…"

"Oh." Louis falls silent, privately worried.

Harry looks over at him, knocking against his arm. "Jesus Christ, Louis. I'm joking. It just makes me drowsy."

"God, you asshole!" Louis exclaims. "I was about to make us turn around, you're such a dick-"

"You didn't actually believe any of that, did you? It was such a reach."

"You looked dead serious," Louis blows the hair off his sticky forehead huffily. "So the seizure thing was a lie?"

They reach the end of the winding driveway and Harry pulls onto the main road. "Well no that actually did happen once, but it was because Zayn dared me to take something we found on a sink in a nightclub."

"Why the fuck would you do that?"

"To see what happens?" Harry says, as if that's the obvious logic in that situation.

"Well what was it?"

"I have no idea, I was having a seizure wasn't I?"

Despite the topic, Louis laughs. It's all so wildly surreal and dramatized, the whole life here in this city. "I bet Liam was pissed."

Harry flips his car visor down, squinting at the sun. "That was before Liam's time. Our old handler, she hated me. I think she was a bit disappointed I had recovered within a day. Why have a life threatening medical event if you're not going to be off your feet for a few weeks? Course, she quit a few weeks after that."

Louis nods sagely. "Ah, because you had a pool boy orgy?"

Harry glances over at him, startled. "It wasn't an orgy it was a threesome, but how did you know?"

"Zayn's a gossip."

"Oh fuck him," Harry rolls his eyes. "He'd never spill the worst stuff, anyways."

Louis raises his eyebrows. "You've done worse things than sleep with two brothers?"

"Shockingly yes," Harry pulls off the crowded highway and takes a left down a smaller road that seems to fade into tree lined forest acres. The small smile dancing around his face slips off, making him look broodingly serious again. 

They drive for another twenty minutes in silence. Louis wonders quietly what sort lf errands get run in the middle of nowhere down winding roads. He hasn't seen another house since five miles ago. He didn't even know there were woods in Los Angeles.

Another sharp right turn redirects them onto a gravel driveway that twists around and then through the trees, a dilapidated building appears. It looks as if it was once quite proud and sprawling, but years of little upkeep sent ivy crawling up the cracked walls and weeds lining the walk.

Harry parks the car under a seemingly random tree and shuts the engine off. 

Louis clears his throat. "Am I allowed to ask where we are or is this a kidnapping?"

Harry rolls his eyes, opening his door and stepping out. "It's my house."

"We just left your house," Louis points out, utterly puzzled.

"No, that was The House. This is my house. Nobody knows about it besides Liam."

Louis clambers out of the car, hurrying after Harry and his long strides. "Where'd you get an entire second house?"

"A realtor," Harry says dryly. He ducks away from the smack Louis aims at his arm and pulls out a ring of keys to jiggle the door open. It swings out with a lot of creaking and a considerable amount of dust. The inside is just as run down, if not even more so, than the outside. None of the lights look like they'd be functioning, the floor is carpeted in dust and all of the furniture appears to be covered with sheets. It looks rather haunted, if you ask Louis. 

"You'd think to could afford a cleaning staff, no?"

Harry narrows his eyes, kicking the door shut behind them. "I don't want a cleaning staff. I come here when I want nobody around at all."

"Right," Louis says tersely. An uncomfortable feeling trickles up his spine and he steps closer to Harry instinctively.

Harry disregards Louis and continues down the hall, leading into a hollow great hall. "The house was in the family," Harry says suddenly, startling Louis more than he wants to admit. "My great aunt owned it. She moved to LA in the 60s to become an actress. Didn't end up making it, but she did marry an exceedingly rich producer and get this house. Strangely they both took their own lives here four years apart. Him, then her. My mother got the house for being her only surviving relative. She was going to sell it so I bought it under a fake name and it's been mine since."

"Why a fake name?" Louis questions. "Why didn't you just text her like _hey mum, family discount for that scary cottage mansion_?"

Harry looks back, giving him a withering look. "I don't speak to my mother. Under any circumstances."

"Oh."

"I wanted it to be a fast and simple purchase, she never would have let it be if she knew it was me. And now I come here when I don't want to be bothered. And all the shit from my childhood that I took from home sits in boxes upstairs."

"Isn't it creepy to be here alone? Where people died?"

"Why would you be scared of dead people? Living people are so much worse." He doesn't sound half joking so Louis decides not to push it. 

"Alright, so what are we doing here anyways?"

Harry shrugs. "Preparing for a two month absence. Closing the windows. Locking the doors. Collecting my extracurricular activities and moving them to my shelf on the tour bus because god knows I'll need it."

"Extracurricular activities?" Louis repeats. 

"You know…" Harry presses one nostril shut and crassly mimes inhaling a line of cocaine. 

"Jesus."

"Well it's not very holy, but if you want to call it that," Harry shrugs, turning up a musty staircase and taking the steps two at a time. Louis has no interest in being violated by any present spirits and demons so he trots after Harry closely. 

The room Harry leads them into is pleasantly neat, the only liveable space Louis has seen so far. There are several boxes stacked under the window and sat on chairs but for the most part, the rugs are free of dust and the light works, as demonstrated when Harry flips them on. He crosses the room to the nearest window and jerks the latch shut, moving on to the next one. 

Louis wanders over to the nearest box, flipping the top up inconspicuously and skimming through it curiously. Harry either doesn't notice or doesn't care, which Louis takes as a green light to continue. 

There doesn't seem to be any order to the contents. It mostly appears to be various children's comics and musty jumpers for a person very much smaller than Harry. At the bottom, a stack of chunky picture frames sit forgotten underneath the rest. Louis sifts them out, holding them up to the light. 

They all contain a bright-eyed little boy with a wide, mischievous smile that Louis numbly realizes is Harry. Half of the pictures are shared with a slightly older brunette girl that Louis can only assume is Harry's sister, usually holding him on her lap or squishing him around like a toy doll. He looks so happy, full of excitement at a world that hasn't wronged him yet. 

There were people, a family that held him and hugged him and loved him before. There was a time when he didn't drift through a mansion in Hollywood like a shell of a person. 

The very last picture shows Harry, maybe four or five, on the lap of a pretty woman in a pink dress. She has the same smile as him, as if it was just copy pasted from one generation to another. Beside them is a striking older man, handsome but in a sort of placid politician way. 

Louis looks up. "Is this your mum? Your parents?"

Harry locks the last window and pulls the curtains down, his face impassive. "I never knew my dad. I had a stepfather."

"Oh yeah, film producer, you told me that. You look just like your Mum-" Louis breaks off when Harry's hand reaches around and snatches the photos from him, tossing them back in the box. 

"Don't. Please."

"I was just looking," Louis murmurs, turning around. Harry's eyes are cast down, his jaw set. 

"There are things that people don't want seen sometimes," he murmurs. "If I wanted to have a conversation about them I would have already."

Louis frowns, biting his bottom lip. "I'm sorry, I should have asked. He steps forward tentatively and slides his hand onto Harry's cheek to press a chaste kiss onto his mouth. He shouldn't, but he does it anyway. Louis is getting too comfortable, too weak at denying his impulses when Harry's right in front of him, so easy to touch. There's a front Louis tries to keep up, one of unbothered coolness, the same attitude they both had that first time Harry pulled him in a nightclub bathroom. He's worried that if he becomes too evidently fond, he'll scare Harry off entirely. As if he's not skittish and distant enough already.

Harry pulls away, hugging his arms around himself and staring down at the floor. The silence is heavy, but not tense.

"I think I'd do it here," he whispers finally, still avoiding Louis's eyes. 

"Do what?"

"Everything. Finish everything. It's quiet. No one would be here to try and stop me. I could just leave."

Louis's heart sinks to the floor and past. Maybe it leaves his body entirely, fleeing the sickening feeling that Harry's words leave. "Harry…"

"I just think that, maybe it'd be too difficult for Liam to be the one to find me, so...you know, if I ever disappear... I'd be here."

Louis bites down on his lip hard, feeling the skin crack open and the metallic taste of blood leaks onto his tongue. "You brought me here so that one day, I can be the one to find you?"

"I'm sorry," Harry miserably truly sounds it. "But it had to be someone I trusted to do it and not breakdown because of it."

There it is. The incredible dilemma Louis has built up for himself. In pretending to distance himself from Harry, in hiding how much he cares, he's convinced Harry that he truly doesn't. He stands here thinking that Louis could discover his lifeless body and not take it as a crushing blow. 

And Louis doesn't know what to say to that. He doesn't know if there is anything to be said.

Harry turns away, running his hand over his mouth. "You can't be fucking mad at me for this, you can't.

"I'm not," Louis breathes. "I just think there's so much in this world you don't understand yet. And it'd be a god damn tragedy if you didn't stay long enough to see it."

"I don't think so."

Perhaps Louis looks miserable, or something softens in Harry for a moment. He sighs heavily, sounding like the weight of the world rests on his shoulders. "But maybe there is. Maybe...I'll make it to seventeen. At least."

Louis shuts his eyes. "Seventeen," he agrees. "Is good."

Seventeen is a chance. Seventeen is time. Maybe enough time for things to change. For Harry to change his mind. Seventeen can be hope.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Back at it with the update!
> 
> First let me say - I'M SORRY FOR HOW DEPRESSING THIS CHAPTER IS. It had to happen, it's fairly important. Don't hate me  
> ( ･ั﹏･ั)
> 
> Next chapter you get christmas though so like... forgive me? Also yeah I know christmas just passed but apparently I'm a slow writer, we don't talk about it. 
> 
> My main songs for writing this chapter were Yellow by Coldplay, which I think describe a lot of the way that Louis feels about Harry, and 6.18.18 by Billie Eilish (on spotify under Bil Cutie) because that song feels a lot to me like Harry speaking about himself, especially in this chapter. 
> 
> Don't forget to hop on over to @heavenaintclosehere on ig if you want updates and moodboards <3 thank youuuuu for reading!
> 
> OH MY GOD AND THANK YOU FOR 5,000 READS THAT'S AMAZING *MUAH*


	25. Chapter 25

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: potential sexual assault is brought up fairly non-explicitly in this chapter, if that's a trigger for you please ready carefully.

Louis Tomlinson is nineteen years old when he wakes up on Christmas Eve. It's the first thing he thinks about, no matter how old he gets. His birthday. Of course, his family wished him happy birthday and merry Christmas and everything yesterday evening as they're a day ahead so he supposes he's mostly finished with the birthday festivities in that case. Which is okay, it's utterly fine.

He purposely didn't tell anyone here about it because he didn't want to take their attention from their very real and anxiety inducing tour that begins in 72 hours. He made that choice with full confidence two weeks ago.

Louis rolls out of bed and takes an indulgently long shower simply because he can. Harry's nowhere to be found this morning, though Louis distinctly remembers waking up slightly in the middle of the night and seeing Harry's outline on the bed beside him. He always seems to appear after Louis has gone asleep and slip away again before he wakes. 

Because it's his birthday, Louis doesn't bother with genuine proper clothing as he gets dressed. Just trackies and a hoodie with his highschool logo on it, nothing more nothing less. He opens the room to his door, prepared, as he does every single day, to step out into an empty hall, but instead someone practically leaps on him, accompanied by a very loud popping noise and a bout of cheering. 

"Happy birthday!"

Louis laughs in disbelief, untangling himself from Niall, who's clinging to him like a koala. Zayn's standing on his other side, grinning and holding a party popper dangling with confetti. "You didn't think we'd miss it, did you?"

"How did you know?"

Niall laughs. "Your date of birth is written on every employee document Liam sees every day, and it's Christmas Eve, that's hardly difficult to remember. Nineteen ooiii! How does it feel?"

"Um, the same I guess?" Louis shrugs, letting Zayn loop their arms together and guide them towards the stairs. "Bit older and more existential, perhaps."

"Well fuck you, there's only room for one existential character in this house and that's me," Zayn disputes. "You'll have to wrestle me for it."

"I'm sure we can just share, I'll leave the heavy emo behavior to you," Louis promises. 

The other boys are in the dining room, Liam scribbling in a tattered notebook and Harry perched somewhat salaciously on a chair smoking. Liam looks up when they enter, giving a smile. 

"The mysterious birthday boy-o wakes," he remarks. "Lou were you really going to let your entire birthday pass and tell no one?"

"I didn't want to distract!" Louis defends himself. "Besides my family called me yesterday, wished me a happy birthday and all the proper stuff. It was fine. It was low-key."

"We can be low-key," Liam says huffily. Louis wonders if he's just slightly miffed at being robbed of an opportunity to plan yet another thing out to the very last detail as he does. 

Zayn squints at his boyfriend. "We can be low-key, baby. You can't."

"I'm very low-key! I made this day very low-key."

"How low-key."

"I simply cleared the schedule for the day, for all of you. I still have to take a meeting but it's a conference call, it won't take that long. And the. Miranda will make something lovely for dinner like she always does and I've ordered a cake," Liam looks self satisfied. "Very simple."

Zayn nods, conceding defeat and even Niall looks impressed. "Surprisingly, yes."

"You didn't think I could."

Zayn crosses around the table and kisses Liam's cheek. "Of course I did. I just equally believe in your tendency to overthink things. But you duped us all."

-

They spend the better portion of the day in the gaming room downstairs, lounging around languidly with nowhere to be. 

Harry seems to hover in the background of everything. He's been quiet since he and Louis went to the other house. Not broodingly absent, just quiet, as if he's trying to see how fast he can disappear from existence if he just doesn't talk to anyone. 

They eat dinner in the garden (because winter doesn't exist in Los Angeles) and Miranda brings out a cake as the sun starts to sink beneath the horizon. She assured them she didn't make it and that they 'must credit the sweet little cake artist who dropped it off' 

Much to Louis's surprise (and honor) Niall procures a pile of gifts before they cut into the cake and lays them out on the table. Louis picks at his sleeves bashfully. 

"You guys shouldn't have," he mumbles through a smile. 

"Louis you're the fifth member of our trainwreck, of course we did," Zayn tells him, patting his wrist. 

They all sing happy birthday - except Harry, who sits back looking ever so slightly amused - and while Liam cuts the cake, Louis opens presents. 

The first one contains a plethora of their exclusive, not yet released, band merch, which makes Louis roll his eyes. 

"You have to wear it on tour," Niall insists, bouncing up and down. 

"Wear a shirt with Niall Gurl emblazoned on it? I think absolutely not."

From Zayn and Liam, Louis receives a new camera - one he's been eyeing for awhile. It has a wider lense and a better zoom and was surely enormously expensive. From Niall, a pair of Gucci sneakers, the delicately handsome ones with the gold bees. 

Louis hugs the items to his chest, both humbled and touched. These are entirely things he doesn't deserve. "Thank you, boys. I love it - all of it."

Niall hops up, smothering him in a hug. "Only the very best for our darling roadie, huh?"

By the time they wrap up cake and presents, the sun has long since disappeared and the twinkle lights in the garden have flipped on, giving the night a pleasant glow. Liam notes that he wants to head to bed early because besides Christmas there's loads to do tomorrow. Zayn trails after him, never one to stray far from his beloved boyfriend. Niall mumbles that he needs a shower, bidding Louis one last happy birthday and goodnight and joining the others inside. 

That leaves Louis alone with Harry, bathed in inky darkness save for the fairy lights. Louis puts his feet on the table, leaning back in his chair and looking up at the sky. 

"Are you going to spend my entire birthday ignoring me?"

"I'm not ignoring you," Harry replies slowly. His voice is always so low and sulky and somehow still entirely appealing. Or perhaps more appealing _because_ of it. Louis hears him stand up and push his chair back in. "I'm just letting you have your day, aren't I? I wouldn't think you'd care."

"I don't care," Louis says quickly. His eyes are shut, facing the sky. He can feel Harry standing over him. "Just a bit fucking rude to ignore the birthday boy when he's a guest in your home."

"The birthday boy is a menace," Harry murmurs, and Louis's whole body shivers and melts into the chair when Harry's mouth touches his. This is all he really wanted today. The way Harry touches him so gently and so possessively at the same time. He has no idea what he does to Louis. 

Harry pulls away, dragging Louis's chair out and dropping to his knees unceremoniously. He looks up, green eyes reflecting the fairy lights around them. "Can I blow you?"

Louis bites his lip. "Outside?"

"No one's around," Harry shrugs. "Besides, we all know Liam and Zayn are doing the same thing." He drags his fingers up the inside of Louis's thighs, making him squirm. "Don't be boring."

"I'm not, I'm just not an exhibitionist," Louis says, but the whine in his voice betrays how much he wants it. 

"No one…" Harry snags an elastic off his wrist and pulls back his hair, "...can see." He tugs open Louis's zipper, yanking his jeans down a couple inches. "But they can hear, so be quiet."

" _Harry_ ," Louis exclaims under his breath, biting down hard on his lip when Harry sinks down without warning. He really likes to get right into things, doesn't he. 

God and he has no gag reflex, that's - well, _fuck_. How could Louis ever have been expected not to secretly fall for Harry when he's like this? So ungodly gifted at everything he does. It's not fair. 

Harry moves his head up and down, making obscenely wet noises. It's all Louis can do not to succumb to all the sounds he wants to make, for fear of letting the other boys know exactly what's happening in the patio right now. It's a pathetically short amount of time before Louis is gasping softly, restraining himself from moving his hips up to meet Harry's mouth. 

He reaches down, attempting weakly to push Harry's head up. "God I'm- Harry - fuck-" Louis breaks off in a desperate whine as Harry, knowing full well what he's doing, sinks down completely, taking Louis all the way into the back of his throat and Louis near bursts a blood vessel trying to silently ride out his orgasm. 

Harry lifts his head up. His lips are pink and wrecked, but he's laughing. "God, you're so loud."

Louis huffs, wiggling back into his jeans. "I was not, I was very quiet."

"You were very fucking loud," Harry stands up, brushing off his knees.

"I want to go inside."

Louis resists the urge to trail his fingertips up Harry's torso. "Okay."

Harry bites at Louis's earlobe gently, dropping his voice to a whisper. "I wanna go inside and I want you to fuck me."

Louis shivers, his dick twitching despite having orgasmed not even two minutes ago. He'd always just assumed Harry was the kind of person who didn't bottom for whatever reasons chronic tops have. 

Louis curls his hand around Harry's wrist. "That's the rudest please have ever heard."

Harry turns around, beginning to walk away. "I never say please." Just bratty enough to be fucking attractive. 

Louis is so fucked. Or not. Somebody's fucked. He follows Harry up the backstairs through the balcony door to his room, hoping they're being quiet enough to fly under the radar. Once inside, he kicks the door shut, pushing Harry back onto the bed and leaning over him. 

"How badly do you need to be able to walk for this upcoming show?"

Harry shrugs. "It's not for three more days."

"We'll pray that's enough time," Louis advises, walking around the bed and snatching lube and a condom from the nightstand. It may be Harry's room but he knows exactly where the goods are. In the time it takes Louis to fetch them, Harry's shucked off his clothes. It somehow makes him look smaller, to be all naked and by himself in the oversized bed. He's so tall and slender and fucking gorgeous, Louis could just gag for him. 

He lowers himself down, nipping at Harry's inner thigh. "Tell me if you want me to slow down," he murmurs and he can feel Harry nodding. 

Louis opens him up slowly, because he knows from experience it's better to be over prepared than under. And because he'd be lying if he said he didn't like the way Harry feels underneath his touch, pliant and perfectly responsive. He straightens up when he's sufficiently prepared, tearing the condom open with his teeth. "Are you ready?"

Pressed back into the bed, Harry nods quickly. His jaw is clenched and he's looking up at the ceiling, refusing to make eye contact. 

Louis falters. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing. I'm - please, just…" Harry makes a rough hand motion that reads too much like _get it over with._

It's with a striking feeling of guilt, Louis realizes abruptly that maybe there's a real, tangible reason Harry had for never letting Louis have him like this. Like maybe there have been times where someone else claimed him like this despite him not really wanting it. 

Louis thinks back to the first time they hooked up in the nightclub. Harry had told him he'd simply leave with one of the men eyeing him at the bar if he didn't leave with Louis. Those men were far too old to be looking at him like that, much less pursuing their attraction. A lot of shit can happen to a drunk teenager when strangers with no morals get involved. 

Louis puts his hand on Harry's chest, feeling it spasm shallowly under his palm. "We don't have to do this."

"No," Harry says quickly, shutting his eyes. "I want to."

"You can't even relax long enough to breathe properly."

"I am relaxed."

"You can't even look at me!"

Harry opens his eyes, looking directly at Louis. "Please, I want this, I really want it. Just be...slow." 

So Louis goes slow, terribly slow, despite physically, every inch of him is demanding to hurry up. When he bottoms out, he cups Harry's jawline, dragging his thumb over his bottom lip. 

"You're so good."

"Don't," Harry winces. His breathing is shallow again with how tight he's holding his chest. "Don't tell me I'm good, don't -"

Louis stills at his words. He loathes the thought of some sick old pig whispering to Harry how good he is, a good boy. Because he's good for others, he's an object for others. To be used and looked at and praised, but never taken care of. 

No on ever fucking took care of him.

Louis leans down, lips brushing the shell of Harry's ear. "I'll make you feel good. The best you ever had, and I'll take care of you." He kisses Harry's jawline, his chin and then his slack mouth. "Anything you want."

"Okay." Harry's shoulders drop back onto the bed, finally releasing the tension. He shuts his eyes again, lightly this time. "Move."

Louis pushes into him, slowly at first, before falling into a rhythm, pressing their skin together at whatever points they can connect. Dragging his nails down Harry's back, mouthing at his neck, breathing into his skin. He's feeling Harry for the first time in a new way. The achingly deep parts of him that he tries to hide are right beneath the surface and Louis wishes he could have more time to discover them.

When Harry reaches his orgasm, he comes with Louis's name on the tip of his tongue, broken off by desperate moans, and Louis isn't far behind. 

He drops onto Harry's chest, breathing heavily. He can hear Harry's heartbeat going overtime, and feel the leg still wrapped around his waist in an attempt to pull him closer. In Harry's defense, it worked, but he can probably let go now. Louis stays still until his breath has caught up with him and he's starting to feel a bit smothered for how sweaty and wrecked they both are. He disentangles himself from Harry's limbs carefully and stands up, poking the younger one's ribs. 

"Are you still there?"

Harry groans non-committally, turning his head into one of the pillows. 

Louis smiles cockily. "I know, I'm otherworldly. If I had an out of body experience, I'd use it to fuck myself."

"Good, then go fuck yourself," Harry mumbles and Louis has to admit he kind of set himself up for that one. He pulls on Harry's ankle. 

"Move, I'm not sleeping in a jizz stain on my birthday."

Harry cranes his neck to glance at the clock with one eye. "It's actually Christmas."

"Well then I'm not sleeping in jizz on Christmas," Louis amends. He drags the top sheet out from under Harry's dead weight and casts it aside. "Baby," he chides, grabbing a handful of tissues and using it to wipe off Harry's stomach. He can feel the tension of his muscles rippling beneath the surface release when he touches him. And maybe that's purely coincidental but Louis would like to think it's because Harry simply trusts him like that. 

" 'M gonna go shower," Louis murmurs, straightening up. 

Harry turns his face back into the pillow, closing his eyes. "Good."

"I won't be long."

Harry gives a gentle hum of acknowledgment as Louis shuffles towards his bathroom. 

All he wants to do is rinse off the sweaty, sticky post-sex feeling so Louis is hardly more than ten minutes all together, but by the time he returns to the room, Harry's already passed out, having lazily slid halfway under the covers before giving up. He's perfectly angelic when he sleeps, Louis thinks ruefully. 

In a perfect world he'd be as peaceful in waking as he is sleeping, and Louis could kiss him awake and tell him he's not going to like when he wakes up at 3am tangled in a sheet and too cold to be comfortable. Harry, of course, would agree, and roll into Louis's arms to fall asleep there instead. 

If this were a perfect world. 

Louis sighs, tossing his dirty clothes in the hamper, and flips off the light. 

\---

As it turns out, the boys don't exactly celebrate Christmas. Louis rather mourns the absence of his sisters jumping on him and hollering that it's time to go unwrap gifts. Harry's not even there as a consolation prize when Louis wakes. He never is, he must set an alarm for six am and stick to it religiously or something. 

Louis finds Niall I'm the living room alone, sitting under the enormously large tree and unwrapping gifts meticulously. 

"Happy Christmas," Louis greets, sitting on the edge of the couch. 

Niall glances up, giving him a trademark beaming smile. "Hi, happy Christmas."

"Are you, um, alone in your gift endeavors?" Louis gestures vaguely. Niall looks down at the neat piles of gifts surrounding him. 

"Oh yeah, well, this is our quaint family tradition. Zayn doesn't like Christmas because of his family, I suppose it makes him sad, and Harry all but loathes the thought of festivities, so we don't 'do Christmas' so much as we just go through the motions - or well, I go through the motions on behalf of everyone. But we do have a lovely big early dinner! And of course it's fine this way because I can just skim whatever gifts off of Harry and Zaynie's piles that I want and they're never any the wiser." He looks pleased without a shadow of bother and Louis smiles. 

"You lot are the strangest bunch."

Niall shrugs his shoulders up and down. "If you have a system and it works, don't mess with it. Here," he chucks Louis a slim box wrapped in red paper. "Pitch in and feel free to snag anything you want, unless the tag says Niall."

-

It takes awhile to finish presents because the two of them often find themselves bickering over various gifts and who gets to keep them. A cashmere sweater, for instance, Niall swears wasn't Zayn's style but he himself should be perfectly happy to keep it. However, given that Louis unwrapped it, he felt he had first claim to it. It's not at all the Christmas that Louis is used to, but strangely endearing nonetheless, even if it is just him and Niall.

Louis takes his armload of gifts - some meant for him, some pilfered - upstairs and sets them on his bed. His room is a little... untouched. Louis supposed he didn't realize it but he spends most of his time downstairs, with the others. Although it may be better that way, given that they're leaving tomorrow it's good not to have to clean up a whole bedroom of lived-in disarray. He should probably start packing, but it's Christmas. That sort of thing can wait till after dinner at least. 

Louis leaves his room as it is, shutting the door behind him, and walks down the hall. Passing by Liam and Zayn's room, Louis can see the younger one laughing and pelting Liam with balled up clothing. They're probably packing, responsible and all that. Though they're barely making it look like a hardship. A cheerful activity, more like. 

He bypasses their door in favor of Harry's and knocks lightly before stepping inside. "Avon calling."

Harry's sitting on the floor in front of an impressively large suitcase. He looks up, narrowing his eyes slightly. "I don't know what an Avon is."

"Oh Jesus Christ, you are little," Louis shudders, inviting himself to sit on the bed. There aren't exactly other available seats in this barren minimalist room. 

Harry looks annoyed, brushing his hair out of his face with a huff. "Did you come here just to be annoying?"

"Yeah, actually. Definitely didn't take pity on you sitting alone in your room on Christmas."

"I don't celebrate Christmas."

"Not alone in your room you don't."

"Louis fuck off, I'm packing

"Sorry, have I done something to piss you off?"

"Besides the hanging around talking while I'm trying to work, of course not. You're a joy to be around."

"I know," Louis says smugly, fully aware that he's aggravating Harry intentionally now. "Anyways, I'm bored so you're going to have to be my source of entertainment."

"You're fucking annoying," Harry groans. He reaches for the TV remote on the floor a few feet away and lobs it back at Louis wordlessly. 

Pleased, Louis takes the silent invitation - or at least acceptance - to stay. Because he is truly very desperate and will sit and watch Harry pack a suitcase on Christmas day if it means spending time with him in some sad, pitiful way that Harry never needs to know is slightly meaningful to Louis. 

He clicks into Netflix, waiting for the application to load, but does a full stop at the homescreen displaying available profiles. 

From left to right they read ' _Eagle One', 'been there, done that', 'currently doing that'_ and at the very end ' _if I had to pick a blonde'_

Louis frowns. "Who set up your Netflix profiles? Were they utterly cracked out?"

Harry looks up, his mouth still folded into a pouty frown. "Zayn and yes, probably."

Wincing, Louis scrolls to the left. "I'm hazarding a guess that you're ' _been there done that'?"_

"He thinks he's clever. And Liam won't let us change it. He's fucking spoiled, that kid."

"He's well loved," Louis says mildly. "Perhaps you just don't understand."

Harry throws a T-shirt that Louis just manages to dodge. 

He turns on Great British Baking Show because it always feels christmassy and cathartic in Louis's opinion. 

Harry doesn't say much, but he glances at the screen every now and then while he folds things into his suitcase. It's not perfect and it's hardly intimate but it is calm and there's no immediate, pressing dilemma. There's just Louis, and Harry looking sort of sleepily rumpled, and the soft judgement of Mary Berry on the television.

In the time it takes three episodes - and several riveting biscuit situations - to pass by, Louis is beginning to feel hungry. He neglected to eat breakfast, but Niall did promise an early dinner. 

As if summoned instantaneously by Louis's very thoughts, the door opens and Niall stumbles in, eye closed.

"Hi, sorry to interrupt, if you're having sex let me know."

On the floor, Harry makes a face. "If we were having sex you would hear it."

Niall opens his eyes, shrugging. "I dunno, people have quite sex sometimes."

"You're having bad sex, mate." Harry tosses down the socks on his hand. "What do you want?"

"You should probably come downstairs, there's a situation."

"Niall, if you're baiting me into walking in on Liam and Zayn fucking on the kitchen counter again I'll rip your-"

"No," Niall cuts Harry off. His face is set grimly. "An actual situation. Liam's mum decided to show up for Christmas dinner unannounced. Zayn's, well, he could use backup."

Louis rapidly scans through his memories on discussions of Liam's mother, but all he can come up with is a distinct knowledge of tensions surrounding Liam and Zayn's dating life. 

Harry gets up quickly and Louis follows after him, nearly tripping over his heels. 

"What's the problem with Liam's mum?"

Harry jogs down the stairs two at a time after Niall. "Upper management. Hates Zayn's fucking guts for derailing her son's career and turning him gay."

"That's bullshit."

"Yeah, you know that, and I know that, but she doesn't." Harry steps down the last stair to the floor gracefully and ruffles his hair before opening the door into the dining room. 

There are three people at the table. Liam, looking anxiously tense, Zayn, who, if Louis thought was brooding and moody before, has increased that by a tenfold. He's slumped in his chair carelessly, contrasting Liam, who's poker straight. Louis can't be sure, but it looks almost like Zayn's done his eyes in shadowy eyeliner, making him appear almost brutally defiant. It's bold, and Louis knows he's doing it just to give a nonverbal fuck you. Joining them is a displeased middle aged woman who can only be Liam's mum. 

Liam stands up fast enough to kick his chair back a couple inches when they enter, looking relieved. "Are you joining us for dinner?"

Niall gives a withering look, drawing our a chair opposite to Zayn. "Do I ever miss a meal?"

Liam's mum gives Niall a pinched look, dissatisfaction creasing the corners of her mouth. "You could do to lose a pound or five, Niall. Perhaps missing a meal here and there is something you could consider."

Niall frowns, glancing down at himself. "I just had a mandatory physical before the tour and the doctor told me I was perfectly within the normal range, thank you." His smile is simperingly sweet and poisonous. Chalk on up for Niall. 

Liam's mum leans across the table, patting the blond's hand. "When you lead the sort of life that you do, dear, nobody wants normal. You're here in the heights of Hollywood to be different."

The silence that follows is almost painful. Louis wonders if anyone will dare challenge her statement, when Zayn uncrosses his arms, leaning forwards in his chair. 

"I'm sure we misunderstood what you were trying to say there, Mrs. Payne, because it sounded dangerously like you were attempting to perpetuate the eating disorder culture that taints mass media and lays its impression in our youth so they grow up feeling inadequate."

Sometimes Louis forgets that Zayn can be rather intimidating when he wants to be. There's a reason Louis was wary of him the first few months he was here. While Liam's mum dismisses Zayn's call-out, Louis slides a chair our, hoping he'll be able to fly under the radar unaddressed through this whole meal. He can feel Harry selecting the seat directly next to him and sitting down. 

"You know," Mrs. Payne begins. "You really do think too much into what people mean when they say something. Nobody likes know-it-all kids, Zach."

"It's Zayn."

"Oh of course, my apologies" she laughs in a way that suggests she's not at all sorry. "Forgive me, it's just such an exotic name…"

"It's one syllable," Zayn says disdainfully. Louis doesn't at all like the direction the conversation is headed towards. 

"Of course, but an unusual one, an unusual one...you know, I was considering a rebrand, a stage name. One that's perhaps more appealing to general audiences. Zach is nice, isn't it?"

"Zach is whiter, you mean. Shall we change my middle name to James too, while we're at it?"

Mrs. Payne opens her mouth to speak - hopefully not agree - but Liam cuts her off before she can begin. 

"Mum, please. We can all just have a good Christmas dinner, no? Look, Miranda is here with the food - hello Miranda, stunning meal as usual."

Their cook nods, looking pleased as she sets out plates of ham and tureens of sprouts and backs our of the room. The table occupants serve themself in silence so concentrated that Louis can practically hear his ears ringing. Unfortunately it's Liam's mother who speaks first. 

"Harry, darling, whatever happened to that nice girlfriend you were seeing?"

Harry looks up, flicking a singular lock of hair out of his face. "Oh, Peyton? She was a sociopath, thew a book at my face and never saw her again."

"Oh dear, well girls can be terribly emotional sometimes."

Harry nods sympathetically. "I agree. That's why I just fuck boys now."

Louis chokes on a spoonful of mash. Zayn catches his eye, hiding a ghost of a smile. Some people just love to watch the world burn. 

Mrs. Payne looks shocked, setting down her napkin. "Surely not?"

Harry nods earnestly. Louis has no idea how he manages to look so innocent while discussing his scandalous homosexual flings. "Oh no, definitely. Boys are just so much more uncomplicated and less emotional. Makes it so much easier to be no strings attached, and you know, it's awfully convenient when work with you, or live with you…"

Louis finds Harry's foot under the table and dogs his heel into it as hard as possible. 

"- and by that I obviously mean Zayn," Harry doesn't so much as glance at Louis, but he does change his thread quickly. The devilish look in his eyes remains. "In past tense, of course, but Zayn and I have a very fulfilling history together."

Mrs. Payne glances between the two of them as if she's trying rapidly to connect the dots. Liam glares daggers at Harry, and Zayn looks supremely amused. 

Harry fiegns surprise. "Oh I thought you knew? Zayn and I used to date, way back at the beginning of the show, although date is putting it grandly. It was rather less complicated than that...if you know what I mean."

"Oh Liam," Mrs. Layne exclaims. "That's absurd, does it never make you uncomfortable to be in a relationship with the sloppy seconds of your charge?"

"God, Mum," Liam groans. "That is not how it works, he's a person not a pair of shoes."

"Well it's horribly unprofessional."

"You're in our management team, coming to our house and commenting on our personal lives, that's fucking unprofessional," Zayn spits. 

"Your personal life with _my_ son."

"My boyfriend! Liam's not your perfect robot role model child, he doesn't want to be that!"

"Zayn, please," Liam murmurs. "Not today. Not on Christmas."

"He doesn't want to be that because you derailed his goals," Mrs. Payne says accusingly. "If you hadn't -"

"Mum!" Liam slams his fist down on the table. "Christmas."

They finish their meal in silence. Stifling silence, the kind that makes Louis want to wiggle out of his skin and melt into the floor. Anything to get away.

After a long bout of nothing, Liam's mother speaks again. 

"Actually Liam, I came with an offering."

Liam looks tired already. "What kind of offering?"

"A job offering."

"Mum... I have a job, this is my job."

"I know, dear, but surely this isn't how you want to live out forever? I mean, when the boys all come of age you'll hardly be needed."

"They'll still need a handler, Mum, they just won't need a guardian."

"You'll always be my guardian, Payno," Niall says, and Louis has to commend the attempt at breaking the ice, even if it does get swept under the rug.

"Well it's a lovely job, with one of our UK branches, I'm sure you'd really enjoy it. It would cover college tuition fees, you could get your degree just like you always wanted." 

"UK?" Zayn interjects. "Why are trying to take him away?"

"Because he's my son dear, I know what's best for him."

"You don't know jack shit about him, you twisted-"

Next to Louis, Harry swears under his breath, standing up quickly. "Excuse me, sorry." He brings his hand to his face and ducks out of the room so fast that Louis can barely register him walking away before he's gone. 

While Zayn and Mrs. Payne raise their voices, fighting to be heard over each other and Liam protests weakly, Niall catches Louis's gaze and holds it, jerking his head to convey an unspoken message. _Go see what's wrong with Harry._

Louis shakes his head, giving a tiny gesture towards Niall. _You do it._ The last thing Louis wants is to be involved in any more drama this evening. 

Niall narrow his eyes, making a crudely violent gesture that reads as _do it or I'll strangle you._

Fine. Point taken. At least it'll give Louis an excuse to leave this dining room. Unnoticed amidst the bickering, Louis slides his chair back and slips out of the room, jogging up the stairs. God he's really out of shape, those stairs are not that steep. 

He knocks at Harry's door and pushes it open. "Harry?"

"Bathroom," a muffled voice replies. 

Well. He can still talk so that's a good sign. Louis walks in, peering into the en suite. Harry's bent over the sink, holding a wad of paper towels to his face. Bright red blood drips steadily down his wrist and onto the white marble. 

"What the fuck did you do?"

"I didn't do anything! It's a fucking nosebleed. Jesus, Louis. Get me more tissues, I'm bleeding out here."

Louis sighs, snatching a hand towel from the rack and walking over to Harry. "Okay, first of all, you're doing this all wrong. You're using paper, it's not going to absorb anything without breaking, you need an actual towel," he pries Harry's bloodied hand away gently and replaces the clump of wet tissues with the towel. "Secondly, you have to tilt your hand back not forwards."

Harry shifts uncomfortably. "I don't like that, what if all the blood fills my sinuses and drowns me alive?"

Louis laughs. "That's not how it works," he tries to tip Harry's head back but it doesn't budge. "Seriously? Harry, that's now how it works. Tip back, you'll be fine."

Harry narrows his eyes. In a very unnecessary observation, Louis notes how green they are in contrast to the blood all over everything. "Fine, but if I drown, it's my blood on your hands."

"Your blood is quite literally already on my hands, I'm not worried about it. Wash your hands, it looks like you killed someone."

"You're holding my head back, how am I supposed to wash my hands while looking at the ceiling?"

"Because you inherently know how to use a sink? What would you do if you suddenly went blind? Rely on your senses."

"No, I'd lay in my bed till I disintegrated and pray I make it into heaven."

Louis shakes his head. "You're so fucking dramatic, my god."

They stand there until the bleeding tapers off and Louis discards the towel before scrubbing his hands free of blood. He follows Harry back into the room, trying not to gaze on as his pulls his shirt over his head and tosses it down, sinking into the bed. 

"Are we not going back to dinner?"

Harry looks over. "That? God no, I think I gave myself that nosebleed as a coping mechanism just to escape. Nature is beautiful. Are you going to finish watching Bake-Off or can I turn it off?"

Louis pulls a face. "I'm watching it, don't turn it off." He snatches the remote out of Harry's hand and sits down on the other side of the bed, mindfully leaving a foot or two of space between them. Louis can't afford to let himself get anymore comfortable than he already is. 

"We should all be more like the judges the Bake-Off judges," Louis offers sagely. "Calm, collected, supportive...I mean, Noel would never come into someone's house and complain about their relationship status or yell at them. He simply wouldn't."

Harry yawns. "Don't give yourself credit for being Noel, you'd be Paul Hollywood."

"What? Why?"

"I dunno. He's nosy, hovers, and he's weird looking."

"Dick," Louis mumbles, elbowing Harry's ribcage. 

"Yeah well, some people can't handle honesty." Harry leans back into the pile of pillows, but he looks anything but relaxed. He chews on his nails, he bounces his foot repetitively, so fast it looks as if he's started vibrating. His nose has since stopped bleeding of course, but he still looks clammy and washed up, like the color was scrubbed out of his skin somehow. Bake-Off, although lovely, isn't quite riveting enough to draw Louis's attention away fully, so he finds himself watching Harry out of the corner of his eye. Not quite concerned, maybe just...well, questioning. 

Netflix automatically queues another episode as soon as they've finished the one they're on, removing any opportunity for Louis to feign distraction for a couple seconds by selecting the next one. Harry gets to his feet, pacing along the length of the adjacent wall. 

Louis tosses the remote off of his lap. "I can leave, if you want."

Harry looks up, pausing his pacing. "What?"

"I mean, if I've pissed you off somehow…" he gestures at where Harry's resumed his agitated pacing once more. "I can go. Have I? Pissed you off?"

"No."

"Then why are you all...that? What you're doing?"

"Walking? Did I miss the memo where it's punishable to walk in your own home?" Harry's voice drips with sarcasm even as he pushes sweaty hair off of his forehead. He looks a mere breath away from being sick. 

"No, but you look like shit. Does this have something to do with the nosebleed?"

"Watch your fucking biscuit show, Louis."

Stung, Louis goes quiet. All that can be heard are the muffled falls of Harry's footsteps breaking up quaint baking commentaries and various woes about tarts and custards not coming together. 

Thankfully - mercifully - the bedroom door swings open halfway through a second episode and Niall comes in, looking annoyed.

"They're proper worked up, all of them. What do you think the odds of Zayn snapping and murdering someone on Christmas is? Taking bets now," Niall sighs. He glances at Harry's pacing and a pleat of worry forms between his eyebrows. "Harry, come sit."

"I was sitting."

"Well, sit again," Niall commands, turning a deaf ear to the younger boy's protests and grabbing his arm. "Who doesn't want to cuddle their best mate on Christmas, am I right! Sounds like an opportunity you don't want to miss." He puts Harry in a headlock and the two of them grapple briefly for a second before Harry evidently decides resistance is futile. Niall flops back onto the bed, yanking Harry onto him and folding his arms over the latter's midsection like some sort of overzealous human seatbelt. 

"Bake-Off?" Niall asks. "I though we were all teenagers not wine-mums."

"Who's to say we can't be both?" Louis challenges.

"Touche. Blimey I could do with a drink today of all days. Liam's mum is enough to make anyone an alcoholic."

"You were already an alcoholic," Harry mumbles. Niall grabs a strand of curly hair and yanks it. 

It's a bit better with Niall there, even if he is somewhat physically holding Harry down, at least he's keeping him from his erratic pacing. They're nearly through an entire season of Bake-Off (yeah, so it's not Louis's greatest binge but whatever) when a commotion down the hall at the stairs reaches a volume that overwhelms the sound of pastoral British baking. 

"- Could fucking respect that, so it's better for everyone if you leave." Unmistakeably Zayn's voice. Footsteps grow louder down the hall until the door flies open once more and Zayn stomps in, looking livid. 

"I nearly just killed my boyfriend's mum."

Niall laughs, loud and short. "What did I say! I told you all!"

Zayn aims a smack at him (dodged) before kicking his sneakers off and plopping onto the bed. "Do you know what she said?"

"Stop doing it up the arse or else satan will have your souls?" Niall suggests. 

"No - well, yes a bit, actually." Zayn lays back and folds his hands under his head. "Conversion therapy. She wants to talk conversion therapy for me. Gave us a pamphlet and all because apparently it will 'help me remember the focuses of my career' or some bullshit. Place me on the righteous path."

Louis frowns. "She wants you in therapy but not Liam? Aren't relationships a bit, well, two-sided?"

"She doesn't think Liam's gay," Zayn shrugs. "And he's not, he's bi, but point is she thinks he's straight and I've just convinced him he's something else. If I'm out of the picture he'll be right back to normal, according to her. And the worst part? Liam told her we'd talk about it. Talk about it. Like there's a fucking chance in hell I'd go to-" Zayn breaks off, frustrated. 

"There's no way. Liam wouldn't ever condone that," Niall says matter of factly. "He's bluffing to get his mum to shut up. Besides, you'll be an adult in what - two weeks? Fat chance they'll get anywhere with therapy in that time."

"I guess," Zayn mumbles, not looking thoroughly convinced. "And the stupid job she offered? Was he bluffing when he said he'd consider that?"

"Jesus, Zee, I dunno. I'm not I'm his head, I just know he wouldn't drag you to bullshit therapy. I guess we should just hope he doesn't take a different job. Like where the fuck would that leave us?"

"Alcoholics?" Harry suggests, finally chiming in and earning a withering eye roll from Niall while he does it. 

"We're already alcoholics," Zayn sighs. Nobody replies, and the room is quiet until the door swings open slowly for a third time this evening, admitting a worn looking Liam. His shoulders slump and he drags his feet heavily. 

"She's gone."

"That's good." Zayn's tone is cool and his body language makes it clear that he's anything but over the events of downstairs. Liam reaches out, touching his shoulder, but he pulls away with a sigh. 

"Conversion therapy, really Liam? Why would we _ever_ consider that?"

"Zayn, love, you had to know I was saying that to placate her. That's never ever something I'd consider putting you through. Not for any reason."

Louis doesn't need to glance at Niall to know he's making his I-told-you-so face. Zayn still doesn't look mollified. 

"And the job overseas? You said maybe to that to make her leave, right?"

Liam's face falls. "No the job, I...the job I really do want to think about." Zayn closes his eyes and Liam rushes to continue. "Zee, think about it, you guys won't need me in a year the way you need me now, I can't just burn all my bridges for potential jobs. I wanna go to college, I mean...you knew that already, you knew that's what I wanted. You could come with me."

"My work is here. My house is here, my life is here, I never wanted to go back to England after I left home. You knew that." Zayn scoots away from the edge of the bed, like he's instinctively pulling away from Liam, and rests his head on Louis's shoulder. 

"Zee, can we please go talk about this?"

"No."

"Zayn-"

"I need some time to think, okay? Some time alone to adjust to the idea?"

"Some time with the boys," Liam points out, almost a little sadly. 

"Yeah, some time with the boys. And a little space, to collect my thoughts."

"Are you mad?" Liam looks so worried that Louis sort of wants to give the man a hug. He tries so hard. Of course Louis isn't picking sides here because he could easily see where they're both coming from, but god damnit Liam just tries so hard for everyone constantly. Even him, and he's only know Liam for four months. 

"Honestly? Yeah. But we'll talk."

"Okay."

"Okay."

Liam backs out of the room quietly, leaving the other four alone in silence. Zayn rubs his eyes, leaning back on Louis again. 

"Life just has to be so fucking complicated," he laments. "What if he leaves mid tour? Who would glue us together like he does?"

"If he leaves I don't think it would be that quickly," Niall assures him, patting the brunett's arm kindly. "We'd all have time to adjust."

"I don't want to adjust to anything that means being without him." Zayn says miserably. 

-

Eventually Zayn becomes evidentially overwhelmed by guilt of rebuffing Liam (as pointed out by Niall, who informs him that he looks fucking miserable) and he leaves in a mopey sort of cloud. 

Niall gets up, walking towards the door and pausing hesitantly. "Lou, a word? Outside?"

Curious, Louis follows the other boy into the hall, leaning against the wall. "Yeah?"

"I just, um, I don't know whatever arrangement you and Harry have for... anything, but if you're with him this evening just, you know. Take it easy."

"Take it easy?" Louis repeats, puzzled. He doesn't know why this advice is coming now, of all times. "Meaning…?"

Niall rubs his cheek distractedly. "Meaning he's agitated tonight and I wouldn't be surprised if he tries something."

" _Tries something,_ what the fuck does that mean?"

"No no no, not like - no. I just mean that - God he's fucking bipolar, Louis. Sometimes there are bad days. And I think maybe the arguing earlier got to him, or maybe it's just being stressed out. I dunno, I'm not asking you to babysit him. Just um, don't let him do stupid shit. And try to get him to take his shit before he goes to bed, it's in the medicine cabinet in his bathroom. Got his name on the bottles and all, you'll find it. Anyways, that's it, I just wanted to say something."

"Right. Yeah. I won't let him leave and walk the streets naked like last time." Louis meant it light-heartedly, but Niall's shoulders drop and he hangs his head. 

"Fuck, I'm sorry Louis. For being the messes that we are - all of us - and making you put up with that."

"No, shit, Niall I was just kidding. I don't care, really." It's a lie. Of course he cares, but not the way Niall thinks he does. Louis could never resent any of them for everything they can't control. 

"It's just, it's fucking christmas and here we are...argued all morning...watched eight seasons of Bake-Off, and now I'm requesting you nanny Harry while he's manic. It's all bullshit."

"I have bullshit to deal with at home too. Different flavor but...you get crap anywhere."

"Yeah, I guess."

"Look, it's late. You have a big day tomorrow. Go to sleep. Harry's fine."

"He's not fine-"

"He will be kept inside the house," Louis emphasizes. "If nothing else. Seriously, go to bed."

"Yeah, fuck, no, you're right. I'm gonna go shower. G'night, mate."

"Night," Louis replies. He can hear Niall head into the bathroom as he treads back down the hall to Harry's room. It's inky, black dark outside. The only light in the room is provided by a single floor lamp, the TVs been shut off. Harry's leaning up against the large windows, pressed against them like the outside holds everything and he just can't reach it. He spins around when Louis comes in, looking at him with wide eyes. 

"I have to go outside."

Oh fucking hell. Louis was cracking a joke when he said he wouldn't let Harry sneak out of the house naked again, he didn't think that was actually something he'd have to prevent. At least he's got clothes on this time around. 

Louis kicks the door shut with his foot and leans against it. "You have to?"

"I think so."

"You think so?"

"Why the fuck are you repeating everything I say?"

"Why are you saying weird crap?"

Harry narrows his eyes, trying to pull Louis away from the door. "Let me out of the room."

"I can't," Louis presses back harder, steeling himself not to be manhandled away. "That'd be grossly irresponsible of me."

"Fuck off, it's my fucking house. Let me go where I want."

"Why do you need to go outside at 11pm? There's nothing out there for you."

"There's nothing in here for me either!" Harry steps back, wrapping his arms around himself feverishly. "At least out there I could find something."

"Whatever wants to be found on the streets by a kid alone at night is not something that you want to find," Louis states flatly. 

Harry sinks onto the floor slowly, still cradling his shoulders, and lowers his head. "You're right."

"I am?" Louis really wasn't expecting him to give in that easily. He clears his throat. "I am. Obviously. I know more than you."

Visibly dejected, Harry draws his legs up to his chest. "Water," he mumbles. "I want water."

"Yeah, sure," Louis shuffles into the bathroom, flipping on the light. There's a glass by the sink - he only ever sees Harry drink water at night, now that he thinks about it. Maybe that's just when he remembers he needs to. It takes about twelve years for the water to run cold instead of lukewarm, but when it finally does, Louis fills up the glass to the brim. It's the very second he returns to the room with a full glass, that he nearly drops it and spills the entire thing. 

"What the fuck." Somehow, with miraculous speed, Harry's managed to slide his window up and crawl onto the sill. "You set me up! You didn't fucking want water, you wanted - no, get in here." Louis grabs him by the waist and hauls him back into the room roughly, slamming the window shut. "Fuckin' escape artist, you can't do that."

"I can't be in here!" Harry's voice rises up a note as he scrambles to his feet, breathing rapidly. 

"And you can't go out alone in the middle of the night!"

Silence falls, a clear impass posed between them. 

Harry crosses his arms over his chest, rocking slightly. "Then don't let me go alone."

"I'm fucking trying!"

"Go with me."

Louis freezes in place. "Go with you and do what? It'll be midnight by the time we get anywhere."

"Anything. Everything. I have to get out." Harry digs his fingernails into the back of his hand, scratching over and over in the same straight, red lines. 

"That's a terrible idea."

"Worse than me going alone?"

"We'd have to tell Liam, I don't even know where he is." Louis points out, trying to shut down the concept before it takes hold. 

"No, we can't tell Liam. He won't let it happen. He's paranoid, about everything."

"For good reason," Louis says under his breath. "You want me to sneak you out, in the middle of the night, tell no one and go anywhere? Do you have any idea how risky that sounds. I could lose my job before it even begins."

Harry unfolds his arms, setting his hands on Louis's shoulders. He almost looks normal but his eyes are full of something else. Bright, and fractured, like he's seeing everything but not quite piecing it together the way it should be. 

" _Please_."

Louis doesn't know if he's ever heard Harry say please before. At the very least, never that emphatically. He's touching him, begging him and deep down Louis knows he'd never have the willpower in him to say no. Whatever promises he made to Niall seem frankly unimportant when Harry's standing in front of him looking so hopeful. Because he's sure he won't be disappointed. Because he trusts Louis. 

"If I get in trouble for this, I'll sue you, Harry Styles."

"I have enough money to buy your silence," Harry replies cockily, twirling around and heading for the door. Amazing the mood change that sneaking out against the rules can bring. 

"Slow down and let me get my shoes, you're not leaving my sight."

Louis grabs his trainers and follows Harry silently down the hall to the staircase. Liam and Zayn's door is closed, and Niall's still showering. Hopefully all of the above mentioned names will assume Harry and Louis have gone to bed and not look into it any further. 

The staircase is marble, and mercifully squeak free. In Louis's Doncaster house, they never would have been able to sneak out this quietly. Harry grabs keys from the bowl in the kitchen and leads them.both out the side door. Once outside, Louis allows himself to speak again. 

"Keys," he demands, holding out his hand. 

Harry holds them to his chest, pouting. He shouldn't be allowed to pout with that face, with those lips. "Can I drive?"

"Absolutely not."

"But it's my car."

"I'll turn this whole operation around if you don't give me the keys."

Defeated, Harry throws him the keys and slides into the passenger seat. He looks soft and fresh faced in his trackies and trainers. He looks...well, his age. Like a regular kid slipping out of the house, trying not to wake his parents. 

Louis insets the key and starts the car up. "Where are we going?"

"Mcdonald's?" Harry suggests, face lighting up. He's like a golden retriever, it's ridiculous. Louis feels like he's babysitting someone, someone not even remotely close to brooding, moody Harry. 

"Don't be a prat, we can't go anywhere you'll be seen. What if people take pictures?"

"And? What are they gonna headline it? Teen Heartthrob Harry Styles pictured in Mcdonald's drive Through With Responsible Adult'?"

Louis frowns. He hadn't exactly considered that it's hardly a crime to go pick up fast food. "Yeah alright but you're putting on sunglasses and keeping quiet."

"Promise," Harry says solemnly. His eyes are large and somber, and it makes Louis drop all pretense of sternness. He reaches out and tugs on one of Harry's loose curls. 

"Buckle up."

The nearest McDonald's is a mere seven minutes away, and when they drive through order, no one seems to give a second glance. Harry gets his milkshake and Louis gets a plain cup of coffee. If he's going to be driving, he may as well be wide awake. Liam would probably appreciate that if he's going to be kidnapping Harry, he's fully alert while he does it. 

"Back home?" Louis suggests. Part of him hopes Harry will say yes, and they'll return and go to sleep and nothing will have happened in between. But if he's telling the truth, the only reason he wants that is because the other part of him desperately wants to be left alone in the night with this Harry, the one who looks delighted by the chocolate milkshake in his hands and leans out the window to catch the breeze in his hair like an excitable puppy. 

And if Louis is really being honest, he hates that wishes Harry could always be like this. He's sick, this isn't even _him_ , he won't even remember this tomorrow, but it's a sharp and bitter reminder of what he could have been. 

"Hollywood sign," Harry says suddenly, popping the straw out of his mouth. "I know how to get all the way up to it even though you're not supposed to."

"Isn't that illegal?"

Harry glances over, biting back a smile. "Not if you don't get caught."

Privately, Louis wonders how many times he'd go against the law for Harry in one night, but he really doesn't want to think about, so instead he turns the car around and heads for the sign in the hills. It's a winding drive, but the roads are clear of other cars. Probably because the tourist trails up through her are all closed for the night and they definitely shouldn't be here. 

There's trail parking at the top of the hill for visitors and Louis parks in the empty lot. "Are we going to get thrown in jail for this?"

"Of course not," Harry downs the rest of his milkshake and tosses the cup in the backseat. "As long as you're not fucking stupid," he covers his mouth with the back of his hand and giggles. "And as long as you don't fall off the side of the trails because then I'd have to call 911."

"Ah yes, my potential demise from falling to my death is hilarious." Louis says dryly, getting out of the car. 

The trails are narrow and a lot of the time they truly do slope off into a steep fall. Not a very long one, but enough to break a couple bones. Harry stumbles around like a drunk toddler, randomly stopping to inspect rocks and pick leaves, just to shred them and drop them again. After a few near misses, Louis wraps his hand around Harry's wrist to keep him on the path and not toppling off the side. After all they wouldn't want to have to call emergency responders and get caught. 

"You should get one of those little kiddie harnesses with the monkeys on them and everything to keep me next to you," Harry suggests, laughing at his own joke. 

"I don't think they make those in adult sizes."

"Sex harnesses," Harry points out. 

"I think I'd get jail for life if anyone saw me walking some kid in BDSM gear on closed trails after midnight."

"It would be worth it," Harry pats his shoulder, and Louis decides not to question how genuine he sounds. 

It's a 20 minute hike up to the sign, occasionally involving some ducking under fences and hopping up ridges, but Louis finds it a little bit endearing and peaceful to walk side by side with Harry while he mumbles aimlessly and trips over his own feet. When they reach the top, Louis has to pause and catch his breath for more reasons than one. Yes he's desperately out of shape, but beyond that, the fucking view. It makes him feel so small, standing behind the enormous sign that everyone grows up seeing plastered everywhere, looking down into the valley. There's something deeply humbling about it. 

"You've never been up here before, have you?"

Louis glances over at Harry. "Never thought I would be."

"Zayn and I came up here on a dare the first month we lived here. I just keep coming back because it makes you feel so... infinite. You're above everything else here, literally above it. How could anything matter when you're sitting next to a giant H looking down at a million tiny lights? I was where I was where I always said I'd be, up up up with the stars," Harry reaches his hands up to the sky, as if, with a bit of effort, he might touch it."

"And now you're one of them," Louis says softly, breaking his gaze at the skyline to glance at Harry. He looks soft, rumpled and peaceful. Against his better judgement, Louis reaches out and swiped a lock of Harry's hair behind his ear. "Starboy."

"Starboy," Harry agrees softly. His eyes slide over to Louis, drinking him in, like there are a million things to see and he could never have enough time to see it all. Slowly - far too slowly for Louis's desperate, longing mouth - Harry leans in and kisses him. It's surprisingly unrushed, deepening as both of them turn to face each other fully and Louis buries one hand in Harry's hair. Because he can't be close enough, no matter how entwined they are. He'll always want to feel Harry better, to hold him nearer. 

Harry brings his hands to Louis's waist, jerking him closer and swiping their tongues together in a way that shifts the tone. He groans softly, leaning his head back when Louis pulls on his hair.

"Fuck me," Harry says breathily, panting. "I want you to fuck me."

Louis bites down hard on his lower lip, urging himself to come back to his wits. "We can't, not here, not now."

"Why not?" Harry's lips are almost kissed bruised already, and it's all Louis can do not to grab him and take him apart without a second thought. But it wouldn't be fair, not in the state he's in. He could barely walk upright on the trail for god's sake, he may as well be wasted drunk. 

"Because... because we're in public, obviously," Louis decides, shrugging. "These trails aren't even open."

"Exactly, they're not open," Harry moves his hand down to Louis's zipper, but Louis stops him, holding his wrist.

"Just... sit. We'll sit." Louis presses a kiss to the corner of Harry's mouth, and it seems to pacify him somewhat, because he sits down in the sparse grass, facing the skyline. Against his better judgement, Louis drapes his arm over Harry's shoulders, the closeness is too comfortable, too familiar. It's so hard for Louis to feign indifference when Harry's like this, practically relying on Louis to care for him. 

They sit in silence for a while, watching the tiny cars inch by and the lights of the city flick on and off. There's something grounding about it. The knowledge that you're just another tiny blot of person in a city that's so alive. 

"Do you feel sorry for me?"

The question comes out of the blue, and Louis looks over at Harry, frowning. "No. Do you feel sorry for me?"

"No."

"Good."

They fall silent again for a moment, listening to the city sounds beneath them, before Harry speaks again. 

"You're lying."

"Well so are you!"

"Why do you feel sorry for me?"

"Because…" Louis sighs heavily, mussing his hair. "Because I just think it would be lonely, everything you have. And everything you don't have. I wouldn't want it."

"Well I wouldn't want to be boring and poor."

"I'm not boring, I'm safe," Louis corrects. "And I've worked hard to stay on the right side of the tracks."

Harry lowers his head, shoulders shaking as he laughs. "And yet here we are, on the same piece of grass in the middle of the night. Like, what was the point of being so different if we're only going to end up in the same place."

"Maybe so that we _could_ end up in the same place," Louis suggests softly. "Maybe we were _supposed_ to end up in the same place."

"Because you take care of me?"

Louis turns his head, looking at Harry, and Harry looks right back. "I dunno."

"It wasn't a question," Harry amends, never taking his eyes off of Louis. "You take care of me." 

"Yeah." Louis leans in and rests his chin on Harry's shoulder, unable to look into his deep, vivid eyes any longer. "I do. And tomorrow, when you wake up and things aren't as simple as hiking to the top of a big hill anymore, remember that I do. Take care of you."

Harry giggles, lolling his head to the side limply. "I don't even remember one minute ago."

"I know," Louis brushes his hand over Harry's hair carefully. "It's okay."

"Good," Harry mumbles, sliding down slowly and laying his head in Louis's lap. "That's good."

"Yeah," Louis agrees, not sure what else to say. Harry seems to have drifted a bit into his own world. Something tells Louis he's not really there anymore. But he trusts Louis to watch over him, and that's all Louis needs to know. He stays still for a long time, until the city seems to grow darker, like even the strongest of night owls headed for bed, and even then, Louis doesn't move yet. Because it's quiet up here, and when Harry sleeps he looks calm, and perfect, and Louis would hate to be the one to disrupt that. 

When the skyline at the edge of the city seems to lighten just barely, tinged with pink, Louis realizes regretfully that it's time to leave. He has no idea what time these trails open, but he doesn't want to be caught up here with a sleeping famous kid. He nudges Harry away just enough that he can stand, and pulls him up by under his arms.

Harry mumbles discontentedly, flopping his head to the side. 

"Shh, don't have a fit just, walk, I've got you."

The hike back down is just a stilted, downward slope, which makes it much easier to drape half of Harry over him and partially carry him back to the car. He's a dead weight, but he's cute when he talks in his sleep, so Louis optimistically decided to call it a win. 

The sky is noticeably growing lighter by the time they arrive back at the house, and Louis simultaneously curses at the fact that they stayed up all night the night before they leave on tour and prays Liam isn't awake yet to see them come back in. 

Mercifully, the house is silent when Louis sneaks in the back, still dragging Harry, and no one appears to question anything as Louis tugs them both up the stairs into his bedroom. He drops Harry on bed, wincing when he accidentally knocks him against the bedpost and Harry swears at him in his half-sleep.

"Sorry, sorry, so sorry," Louis whispers, flipping him over and pulling his shoes off. "Just, yeah, get under the cover, I'm sorry." He steps back, waiting a second to make sure Harry'll stay asleep before stumbling into the bathroom. He's ready to pass out at any moment, but Louis will be damned if he doesn't brush his teeth. He'll get a couple hours sleep at best, which makes him squirm. That 8am alarm squats ahead of him like a giant toad. 

Louis walks back into the bedroom, stripping down to his boxers. He can't be bothered to search for pajamas, that's the last thing he can be bothered to do. He drags back the covers and tosses himself down limply. Fuck this bed is comfortable, Louis wouldn't mind staying here for hours when it's this plush and pillowy and Harry's next to him like a little bed-warmer. A bed warmer with a pile of disarrayed hair and an expanse of pale, tattooed skin that snores lightly. The price of keeping Harry mollified all night was apparently, the precious currency of Louis's own sleep. 

Louis rolls onto his back. He'll find out if it was worth it tomorrow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A month later I'm back with a new chapter 🤪🤪 I didn't mean to take that long of a break!! I ended up going out of town for a bit and stayed in a house with no wifi for three weeks so that really threw off my game. 
> 
> But the chapter is kind of long so...maybe that's worth it? Also you get smut and soft harry so like LITERALLY what else could you want? 
> 
> *A consistent posting schedule, maybe*
> 
> Annnyyways, leave a comment with what you thought if you have a moment, feedback and discussion about this fic is by far the biggest motivator to continue writing, so don't be shy to drop your thoughts!!
> 
> Also we hit 6k reads while I was on my unplanned hiatus so thank you all for that <3 <3


	26. Chapter 26

"Louis, wake up. Louis _wake up_."

Louis sits up rapidly, head swimming and eyes popping. "Jesus Christ, what _what_?" Liam's standing over the bed, shaking his shoulder

"It's 8:45, the bus is here and we're supposed to leave at 9:15 to stay on schedule."

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," Louis groans. "I set an alarm, I must not have - shit, I'm so sorry."

"I tried to let you sleep in as long as I could, Niall said Harry was having an episode last night and that's always - well, I figured you didn't get to sleep at a very proper time."

"Yeah I reckon we didn't." Louis glances down at Harry, who's still out cold and wrapped around a pillow. 

"You should have gotten me," Liam laments. "And this is just such bad timing, he'll be out cold the rest of the day, he always is."

Louis recalls the morning after Harry was so scandalously taken into police custody for roaming the streets undressed, and how Liam and the others had booked out their days so it was down to Louis to stay behind and make Harry tea or ensure that he didn't escape without pants again. Oddly, that day is one of the few pleasant memories he has with Harry, and even more oddly, Louis has been around here long enough to have memories to look back on. "Well, at least it's happening today and not on show day," Louis sighs. 

Liam pulls at his hair, making a face as he turns around. "God, don't even make me think about it. Anyways, I need you downstairs. Good luck waking Harry."

After Liam leaves, Louis gives himself another minute to press his head back into the pillows and sulk deeply. He knows the ride to the hotel isn't long, because it's not as if they're even leaving Los Angeles county, but he hopes that getting to the hotel means napping and not anything excitable or even remotely active, like tour soundcheck or whatever it is they call that. 

Huffing exaggeratedly, he pushes himself up on one elbow and pushes Harry's shoulder. "Wake up. It's time to get a move on, get up."

Harry doesn't so much as twitch. Louis leans down, listening to his breathing. Normal. Bit asthmatic if he's being honest, but not concerning. "Oy, hey. Sit up, c'mon." He shakes Harry again, slapping his face a little. 

At that, Harry opens his eyes, green underneath fluttering eyelids. He gives a soft whine from the back of his throat, turning his head to the side. "I don't feel good."

"At least you slept," Louis points out. "Liam's pressed about time, we need to get up."

Harry mumbles a string of unintelligible dialogue while Louis wraps an arm around him and forces him to sit up. He drops his head into Louis's shoulder immediately, listless as ever. Louis sighs. He doesn't have the skill-set for this, he should have made Liam do it. He thinks back to when this happened last time, he was here with Harry and there must have been some motivator, something that made sitting up worthwhile. 

Ah. _Tea_. 

Still holding Harry upright, Louis leans in and presses his lips to the shell of his ear. "If you get dressed, I'll make you tea." Louis almost has to laugh, because from afar he's sure it'd look as if he's bribing Harry with some sort of filthy promise for later, when, in fact, he's merely offering a cup of tea. It's not funny, really. If he's being honest it's sort of sad. Harry's not nearly as dark and twisted as he likes to pretend. Deep down he just wants someone to make him tea and play with his hair and take care of him. His whole existence is him crying out for someone to take care of him. 

"Hey," Louis nudges him, making sure he hasn't nodded off. "Tea?"

After a long pause, Harry lifts his head. "Tea," he agrees softly. 

-

Harry goes to his room to get dressed, leaving Louis alone to throw on clothes and speed-run through all the packing he neglected yesterday. It's a bloody good thing he didn't get nearly as settled into this room as he did last time. Spending half of his nights in Harry's room and most of his days downstairs with the boys turned out to be a gift.

Louis manages to cram everything into his suitcase haphazardly and drag it down the stairs. There's already a pile of luggage there, so he adds his to the mix and heads into the kitchen, where he finds everyone's congregated - even Harry, sat on a barstool, resting his head in his arms on the counter.

"Moooorning," Niall trills cheerily, tossing a juice box at Louis. "Big day, huh?"

"Niall," Liam sighs. "We're driving an hour and 15 to a hotel, there's nothing exciting about it."

"We're getting in our tour bus. A bus for our tour and driving into bustling central Los Angeles, what part of that isn't exciting? Louis you have to see the bus, it's so sexy inside."

Zayn looks disgusted, making a face at the blonde. "If I ever hear you describe interior design as sexy again I'll petition to have you cut from the band."

"My Niall girls would never let that happen," Niall says confidently, sliding into a barstool. He pokes Harry's elbow with a spoon cautiously. "Has anyone made sure he's still breathing?"

"I think if he were head he'd slip off of the stool," Zayn muses, not bothering to glance up from his phone. "We all know he's been worse."

Louis is privately glad Zayn opts not to elaborate on that. 

"Fifteen minutes," Liam interjects. "We're staying on schedule today if it kills me. Everyone has everything ready at the stairs, yeah? You're all responsible for taking your own luggage out, be warned."

Niall sighs loudly. "The way we're rich but not rich enough to have a personal luggage carrier will never be understood by me."

"Niall, you're at your peak of physical health. Shut up and carry your luggage."

-

Louis is glad he only has one suitcase, because it means he's boarded the bus and sitting long before the others. Niall was right, it is a sleek setup. They really do look like the way the movies show. Most of it is lined with stylish couches, but there's a kitchenette and a sufficient snack supply, along with a tiny bathroom and four cramped bunk beds. The very back of the bus is split into two narrow rooms, each housing one full bed and just enough room to stand next to it. Louis can't help but wonder what sort of fist fights will ensue over who gets to have the only sizeable beds on the bus. 

The door opens and Niall and Zayn shove inside, lugging their last bags. 

"Ah bus sweet bus!" Niall exclaims. "Fucking sweet setup, right Lou?"

"Yeah it's definitely fancier than anything I've been on."

"It's fancier than anything I've been on," Niall notes. "But that's probably for the better given that we'll be living here on the days that we don't have time for a hotel. Hey, who do you think gets the big beds?"

Zayn opens his mouth to reply when the door is shoved open again. Liam staggers in, dragging Harry, who slumps like a human shaped sack of mud. 

"Nobody could have stayed behind and helped me with Harry?" Liam demands. "I still have to get my own suitcase too, you know." He practically dumps Harry into Louis's arms and Louis has to grab him to keep him from sliding to the floor. 

"Er, deal with him," Liam instructs unhelpfully. "Left room is mine and Zayn's, right room is Harry's."

"Wait - Harry's?" Niall repeats indignantly. "Why does he get the best room?"

"Because he's unconscious, Niall, if you couldn't stand up, I'd lay you down on a bed too."

"Okay right, but it's just temporary, Right? Just till he wakes up? We're gonna talk about this later Liam, right? Right? Liam! Don't walk away when I'm talking to you!"

Louis is probably better off leaving this one to them to settle. He grips Harry's arms and shuffles down the hall with him in an ungainly sort of stagger. The room is tiny and the bed seems shorter than a regular bed somehow, Harry barely fits on it lengthwise. Louis lays him down, mindful not to smack his head on the wall again. As soon as he backs away, Harry rolls onto his back, tucking his feet up next to him.

"You never made me tea," he mumbles, covering his face against the light. 

Louis silently chides himself. "Shit, you're right, I told you I would. I can, um - I think there's an electric kettle, I can go make some?"

"I dunno."

"Will you drink it, if I do?"

"I dunno."

"You're not being very helpful," Louis remarks. 

"Just...close the lights," Harry waves a hand loosely at the window, and Louis reaches over to shut the blinds. He's pretty sure that's what Harry meant, at least. 

"So...tea? No tea?"

"Lay."

"Lay?"

"Down," Harry whines pitifully, slapping at the bed behind him. 

"Oh, right. Yeah, right." Louis kicks off his shoes, wondering if he's needed for anything up front. It's 9:17, they were supposed to be pulling out of here two minutes ago, he can't imagine much else will be going on besides leaving. May as well settle in for the drive. He lays on his back, leaving enough room for Harry. Or at least trying to - the beds are narrower than the ones at home. 

Harry doesn't seem to be bothered by trivial things like personal space right now. He rolls over, laying on his stomach between Louis's legs, and drops his head on Louis's chest. 

Surprised, but hardly bothered, Louis leans back into the stack of pillows behind him. He could stay like this awhile - he could nap like this, and he could do with the rest too. 

The bus starts with a low rumble and a lurch, filling the air with the hum of a running vehicle. They must be heading out now. If Louis hadn't just closed the blinds, he would crane his neck to glance out the window at the building that's housed him for nearly four months straight. It's been a strange home, and strange months, and Louis doesn't really know if he'll see it again, which makes him a little sad. His home is in Doncaster, and his second home is with this group of disaster artists and he gets months on the road with them now, but he'll miss the house. It was a good house while it lasted.

The bus reaches the end of the driveway and curves around to turn onto the road. 

This is day one.

-

Louis dozes for an hourly, which feels blissful and he'd surely have loved to continue, were it not for the shrill buzzing of a ringtone that wakes him up. Fumbling sluggishly, he reaches into his pocket, trying not to wake Harry while he does it. The caller ID informs Louis that it's his mum trying to get ahold of him - he can't ignore his mum of all people. 

"Hello? Hi Mum."

"Good morning, Louis!" The trill of his Mum's voice is slightly grating on Louis's half-sleeping mind and he moves the phone away from his ear a few inches. 

"Hi, hi. Er, Merry Christmas late, sorry I didn't call or anything."

"Not to worry, dear. We didn't call either, figured you were plenty busy there celebrating with the other boys."

"Yeah it was definitely busy - fun! It was exciting busy. We um, did presents and everything and had christmas dinner and all, it was really good." Louis swallows thickly. He used to tell his mum everything and now it seems like all he ever does is feed her glossy, fabricated stories. As far as she knows, Louis lives a carefree PG-13 life here with a group of pleasantly goodie-goodie teenagers. 

Louis clears his throat, switching the phone to his other ear. "How are the girls? What did you lot do for the day?"

"Well actually…" Jay's voice is light and excited. "I have something lovely to tell you, doll. Dan - you met him while you were back home, remember? He's proposed to me. Yesterday, on Christmas. I'm engaged, Louis dear."

Louis almost sits up, before remembering just in time that Harry's passed out on his chest. "Mum! That's so - that's amazing! I'm so happy for you."

"At first I was surprised but then I knew, immediately I knew it was right. The right time, the right person."

"That's good. That's really really good, Mum, he's a lovely guy."

"Isn't he? And the girls adore him and he's over the moon for them. And I know it's a silly request, Lou since you just left but we'd like to have a small wedding really soon, so we can get him joint custody of the girls and all, it's important to us. Would you, do you think, be able to come back home just for a couple days?"

"Yeah, yeah of course, how soon do you think?"

"Two weeks?"

Louis's heart sinks. Two weeks? That's practically tomorrow. The thought of boarding a red-eye, leaving the boys and going home to pretend like everything is normal for two days and come right back into the chaos is giving him a headache already. But his Mum's wedding. His mum who's done anything and everything for him since the day he was born.

He must have been quiet for too long, because Jay speaks up. "Dan and I can come together for your airfare, dear, you don't need to worry about any of that. And of course, if you can't make it, I'd understand, I know how busy you are."

"No, no, Mum, I'd never miss it. Of course I wouldn't miss it. You don't need to pay for anything, god knows I'm getting paid enough here. I'll talk to Liam and he'll arrange room for me to leave for a few days, I'm sure it won't be an issue."

"Thank you love, it means so much."

"Of course. Just give me dates and I'll make it happen." On top of Louis's chest, Harry whines in his sleep and repositions himself. Jesus christ, of course he chooses a break in the conversation to fill as loudly as possible.

"Everything alright, Louis?"

"Yeah, yeah," Louis says quickly. "Just, coughing you know? Sore throat. It's the bus I think I'm er, allergic to the bedding in here somehow."

"Awh love, don't forget to take allergy medication if you're going to be hanging around on that bus most of the time."

"Yeah, definitely." Louis says, biting his lip as Harry slides down and rolls onto his back, leaning on Louis's thigh. _Please don't wake up._

Harry opens his eyes, squinting and grumbling. "Who the fuck are you talking to?"

_Fuck_. "Hey, listen, Mum, I should be going now." Louis fits his hand over Harry's mouth, motioning at him to shut up for a moment. "Um, congrats on the engagement and text me the dates and everything and we'll, um, make sure I'm there, okay?"

"Of course, thank you again, doll, I'll let you go. Bye dear."

"Bye Mum." Louis ends the call quickly, recoiling his hand from Harry. "Do you have to be so loud all the time?"

Harry rolls off of him completely, laying flat on his back. "What, your mummy doesn't know you fuck around with boys?"

"It's not like that," Louis bristles. "It's that my Mum has plenty to be getting on with already without me trying to explain why I hang around your disastrous existence."

"Right. Because no mother wants to find out their kid entertains a drug addict catastrophe, right?"

Louis realizes belatedly his words might have been slightly too harsh, which wasn't really his intention, it was simply the product of the moment. "Harry, you're fucking famous, do you really want me going around telling my mother about whatever the fuck this is? Would I even be allowed to?"

"No." Harry sits up. "And I really don't give a fuck either way, regardless. Keep your neat little family separate from the woes of Hollywood if it so suits you. Now, we'll be arriving at the hotel in 15 minutes, judging by the time, and waiting there will be a flock of fans and press alike, which means I need to get dressed and look the part."

"Okay."

"That's your invitation to leave, Louis." Harry informs him, standing up.

"As if I've never seen you get dressed," Louis mutters under his breath.

Harry reaches over, grabbing Louis by his forearm, dragging him off the bed and hauling him out of the room. The space is so small that he can basically open the door, manhandle Louis out of it, and shut it again in one fluid motion.

Louis kicks the door as it closes. "Dick," he hisses through his teeth. 

"Who's a dick?" Niall pops his head around the corner, stretching off of the couch he's sitting on. Louis didn't realize anyone was listening. Living in close quarters like this is going to take a minute to adjust to.

"You, for being nosy," Louis says, lightly smacking Niall's head as he walks by. "Where're the other two?"

"In their room."

"In their room or... _in their room."_

"Only in their room, I think. They've been a little snippy, I think Zayn's still hurt about yesterday and Liam always falls just slightly short of understanding how much his mum bothers Zee."

"Oh holy hell, if Liam and Zayn are feuding romance is truly dead." Louis sits down on the couch across from Niall, perking up a bit. "Actually, my mum just got engaged. Just found out today."

"That's brilliant, mate. Good guy, I hope."

"He seems alright, only met him a couple times, but my sisters approve, which is worth a lot. I'm uh, I'm gonna see if I can get away from tour for a few days and go to their wedding. Do you think Liam would mind?"

"Hardly. With all the bullshit he takes from us, I doubt you attending your own mum's wedding will be a cause of contention."

"Good. That's good. I don't want to be a problem or anything."

"Of course you're a problem, you're one of us. We're all problems." Niall stands up, patting Louis's back. "But you're no more a problem than the rest."

"I...thanks, I guess?"

"You're welcome. Love you. And put shoes on, we'll be there soon."

-

As soon as they pull up to the hotel, Louis can see that there is indeed a crowd of people waiting at the entrance. Photographers and paparazzi, but mostly a dense group of sign-waving fans. The bus driver calls Liam up to the front, which spurs both him and Zayn out of their small room. Louis tries to listen to what the driver tells Liam, but he only catches a few words about where they should park before Zayn comes and sits down beside him, looking morose and tearful.

Louis leans forward, concerned. "What's wrong?"

Shrugging, Zayn turns away. "It's nothing."

"Nothing but you've been crying? About nothing?"

Zayn heaves a sigh, wiping his eyes on the cuffs of his sleeves. "It's stupid, honestly nothing's happened. I just feel like…" Zayn lowers his voice and looks over at Liam. "He's pulling away from me. Like all of this, the job and all, is a slow march towards our relationship demise."

"Did he take the job?" Louis asks in an equally low voice.

"No. Hasn't decided, apparently. But it feels like he has decided and doesn't have the heart to tell me."

Louis loops his arm through Zayn's and pats his arm comfortingly. "I'm sure it'll be fine, you guys are like an old married couple. Ups and downs, right? It happens to everyone."

"Yeah, I guess," Zayn murmurs, looking relatively uncomforted still. 

"Listen up, boys!" Liam grabs the attention of the bus in an instant. "We've decided to park up front where everyone's gathered, get a dose of publicity before tomorrow's show, so be ready to walk out in a minute or two. Security's in the car behind, obviously don't get out till they open the door."

"So, same routine as every fucking time we get out of a car," Niall notes sarcastically.

"Some people here are new, Niall. Louis may want a reminder of these things."

"Louis will walk with me, I'll protect him," Niall grins. "I'm accomplished at the art of kicking ass, if anyone tries anything, so don't you worry."

"Thanks, Ni, I feel much safer for it."

Harry comes out of the back room, looking as brooding as he ever does, but devastatingly handsome nonetheless. His monochrome black outfit, dressed up only with a silver cross around his neck holds a very reluctant vampire look. Louis supposes he expected a slightly more Disney boy-next-door appearance on him, given that they're about to go in front of a crowd, but maybe Harry can't be bothered today. He hasn't cut his hair since they stopped shooting the TV show, it makes him looker older and more serious.

"Are we going or what?" Harry asks pointedly.

"Yeah as soon as I get the go ahead from the PPOs," Liam glances down at his phone. "Annnd they're ready, doors open. Harry first, Niall, Louis, then Zayn. I'll be I'm the back. Louis, as much as you may want to, resist the urge to plug your ears. Looks bad in pictures."

As soon as the bus doors swing open, Louis realizes exactly what Liam meant by that. The screams are deafening. The paparazzi requests to look one way or another are utterly squashed out by the shrill shrieks of hysterical fans. Around him, Louis can feel the boys stop for photos with people at the front of the barricade of burly security members, but nobody wants pictures with him of course, so he cuts to the front and waits by the front doors for the rest to catch up. Liamshuffles behind them, making sure things keep moving steadily. Only one girl has to be pulled off of Harry's arm by security before they all make it in one piece to the doors. As they amble into the lobby, Louis thinks that that whole ordeal wasn't quite as overwhelming as the first time. In fact there's a small chance he could get used to this life. 

"Room key," Liam nudges him, dropping a sliding card on a bracelet loop into his hand and moving down the line to give Niall his. "Everyone has their own room - 'cept me and Zayn of course - but they're all in the same hall, so hopefully we won't lose each other. We're here tonight and tomorrow night for the shows, and then we hit the road on the bus again after that. Everybody clear on the plan?"

There's a general smattering of mumbled agreement from the other boys. Louis nods.

"And for god's sake, nobody leaves the hotel without checking in with me first. And um…" Liam scratches his head. "I think that's about it. We're on the third floor, c'mon."

It's a tight squeeze to cram all five of them and two hefty security people into the elevator up three stories. Louis is squished into the corner, shoulder to shoulder with Harry, who's pointedly avoiding his gaze. He looks sunken and clammy. It makes Louis wonder if coming down from last night's episode is rougher than he thought, or if Harry was doing something besides getting dressed when he locked himself in the bus room earlier. 

When the elevator opens and the group disembarks, Louis edges around Niall and follows Harry down the hall to his room. He doesn't seem to notice he's being tailed until Louis puts his foot in the door, keeping Harry from closing it behind him.

"What the fuck, Louis."

"Let me in."

"Why?"

"Because," Louis shoulders his way into the room, kicking the door shut. "Even though you clearly don't want to speak to me, I'm still going to ask- are you okay?"

Harry rolls his eyes dismissively. "I'm fine."

"Really? Because you don't look fine."

"I'm fine because I have to be fine, Louis."

"That sounds like a shitty way to be fine," Louis crosses his arms over his chest.

"Well what the fuck am I supposed to do about it? It's not like I have options here."

"Well for starters, maybe don't lie about being okay. I'm right fucking here, asking if you're okay, because you don't have to fucking pretend like life is a breeze all of the time. I'm here asking because I fucking care enough to give you the time of day and all you do is lie."

"And if I weren't fine why the _fuck_ would I tell you?"

"Because-" Louis breaks off. Why would Harry tell him? Because they sleep together? It's not a good enough reason, Harry could never understand how much Louis cared unless Louis told him, and that's far from a viable option.

"Because you want to be able to walk out of here at the end of the day like everyone else with all the details and drama of my life that everyone so craves and sell it to the first person with a high bidding? Is the paycheck not enough for you?"

Louis steps back, hitting the wall. "I would never do that- why the hell do you even think I'm capable of that?"

"I learned a long time ago not to trust people." Harry replied coldly.

"Even if I was that shitty, there are contracts, you know I can't say anything."

"Oh that's great. That's amazing to know that a piece of paper is keeping you from selling my story, thanks so much, Louis."

"I would never do it!"

"Everybody wants something Louis, and everybody leaves with more than they deserved. It doesn't matter in the end what I tell you or don't tell you because when all is said and done you'll still leave and you'll still know more than I ever wanted you to. It wasn't my idea to bring you to work here in the first place, so just keep your head down and go on your way like everyone else does."

Louis turns around, hand on the doorknob. "Have you ever considered that people leave because you make it so fucking difficult to stay?"

"Yes. Every day." Harry looks exhausted, like he truly carries the burden of thinking he's unlovable every second of every day. Because he does. 

Louis softens, shoulders falling. "Harry…"

"I think you should go."

"I didn't-"

"Just go."

Regretfully, Louis opens the door and steps out. He's fucking this up more than Harry is, it's him that's the problem. He went on this tour to try his best to watch out for Harry and all he can do so far is hurt him. Louis is just as much a fuckup of a person than anyone else here. 

Probably even more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Back at it with the posttiinngg. Thank y'all for the love on the last chapter, we're getting close to 7,000 reads which is so crazy because I posted this originally thinking it'd get like 30 hits and dip. So thank you everyone. 
> 
> Reminder that I have a page @heavenaintclosehere on instagram where I post pics and moodboards for the fic, as well as my tumblr @isabeljosephineee which has character playlists. 
> 
> Hope you enjoyed the chapter!!!


	27. Chapter 27

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW for sexual assault in this chapter. Very non-graphic and very little actually happens but it is abuse nonetheless and could be potentially triggering. 
> 
> Back to your regular scheduled programming~

When he lays in bed that night, Louis wishes fruitlessly that Harry would knock at his door and ask to come in. Ask to fall into his bed with him. He got used to sleeping next to Harry, Louis supposes. Maybe Harry doesn't feel the same way, maybe he'd rather sleep alone. Maybe the real reason Louis is here is because he needs Harry, not the other way around.

Louis wakes up feeling relatively unrested, for the second morning in a row. At least yesterday Harry was next to him, today he's just cold and all by himself. His phone chirrups with a text as soon as he picks it up, the notification bar popping up on the screen.

**Liam: headed to the venue in 10, be in lobby ⏲️👨**

Of course Liam would unironically use emojis that way, he's Liam. Louis sends him back a thumbs up and rolls out of bed groggily, fumbling for clean clothes. He has no idea the levels of publicity they'll encounter today, so as much as he wants to throw on sweats and a hoodie, he opts for jeans, a band tee and a fitted jacket that he always thought accentuates his waist. Very subtle street chic sort of look. Screams celebrity entourage. Which is exactly what Louis is, so that works out well.

It's early and the lobby downstairs is mostly deserted save for their group. There's Liam looking stressed, Niall as excitable as ever, Zayn in all his brooding glory and Harry being...being Harry. A little vacant, a little untouchable. Louis thinks he sometimes looks like he's not quite real. 

"Ah, Louis," Liam claps him on the shoulder. "Great, you're here. We can head out, we're a little behind schedule."

"I don't understand how it's this early and we're already behind schedule," Niall rolls his eyes. "That doesn't even add up."

"In our groups defense, the cars were late, but they're here now so if everyone would please proceed to the black Cadillac out front…"

"I don't know car names," Niall moans, looping his arm through Liam's and leaning on him.

"There's one black car out front right now Niall! This one is self explanatory."

Niall pulls a face, rolling his eyes again as their group shuffles out to the waiting car. Harry sits up front next to the driver, Niall and Liam take the middle, which leaves Zayn and Louis to the backseat, which Louis doesn't mind a bit. Zayn's an ideal seatmate; quiet and good for a cuddle. The first thing he does when they sit down is rotate sideways and toss his legs over Louis's lap.

"Zayn, you have to be buckled," Liam chides with a frown."

"It's a three minute drive in traffic," Zayn retorts. "We're going nowhere fast enough to cause damage, it would have been faster to walk."

He's got a point. They can see the venue from here - The Hollywood Bowl. Named for the, well, bowl shaped dip of the seating. It's entirely an outdoor venue, which Liam warned comes with a lot of screaming queues of fans trying to glimpse them all day, but the hordes of security teams already stationed at all possible entrenched are equipped to keep them back.

As the car rounds the corner to the back parking lots of the venue, Louis hears it. Even through the sealed doors of the vehicle, the roar of screaming groupies. He doesn't even know what they're yelling about, no way they can be seen from behind the entire venue inside a tinted car. Maybe screaming for no reason is just something that happens at big concerts, Louis has never been to one this large, really.

Zayn lets out a low whistle. "Jeeesus christ. Listen to that, that's...wow. How many people does this venue hold?"

"17,500," Liam answers automatically. He's a walking, talking fact machine.

"And you sold that out?" Louis gapes, craning his neck to take in the full scope of the space as they park.

"Don't act so shocked," Harry interjects haughtily from the front seat. It's the only thing Louis has heard him say all morning. Because after last night, of course the first thing Louis wants is to have offended him again.

"No, I mean, I wasn't - it's impressive," Louis fumbles over his words, trying to backtrack quickly without further provoking Harry. He's already turned around and faced front again, and although Louis can't see Harry's face, he can guess well enough that there's a disdainful frown etched onto it. 

Louis is the worst self appointed caregiver. What has he even done to help Harry? He can't seem to do right by him for even five seconds, because every time he manages to get on his good side for even a moment, he just fucks it up again. Is his presence here just fundamentally agitating? Louis wishes he could know. If he could magically request one answer from the universe right now, it'd be whether or not his time here does more harm than good.

-

The countdown to showtime passes with almost criminal haste. They run through the setlist twice for soundcheck and go to pace in their dressing rooms after that. Louis is surprised at their music, it's not quite as teeny-bopper as he would have guessed. Sure it's not death metal or even hard rock, but there's a tone of maturity and grit to it that he wasn't expecting. Niall later on pridefully informed him that as of this very tour, they've switched target demographics from the 9-14 crowd, to the 14-18 crowd. Louis didn't think that was much of a leap until he realized the significance of moving from catering to children, to catering to young adults.

He's sitting by himself in Niall's dressing room now, where they all congregated an hour ago to bounce nervously and talk, but the boys have since gone off to change into stage clothes. Apparently they don't actually get dressed in the dressing rooms, those are more hangout areas. It's all very confusing, Louis is still learning the lingo.

He has two cameras with him, hung in bags from either side of his body, and he's the only person outside of their security detail that will be allowed past the crowd barrier, directly in front of the stage. Even Liam will just be watching from the audience.

The curtain that serves as a doorway pulls back and Harry sulks in, looking as stony as he always does. Louis raises his eyebrows. He’s wearing a suit. 

“The outfit,” Louis remarks nonchalantly. “I wasn’t expecting that.”

Harry looks up, not bothering to disguise his glower. “We’re not fucking _Bieber_ , what were you expecting?”

“I dunno. You just look very serious. Very edgy.” Louis hopes Harry hears the glimmer of humor in his voice and doesn’t take it as passive aggressiveness.

“Whatever,” Harry mumbles, turning away as the other boys amble into the room.

“Bandmates!” Zayn exclaims, wrapping arms around Harry from behind and leaning on him. "This is a momentous occasion, is it not?"

"No, it definitely is," Niall pipes up,embracing them both enthusiastically. Louis lifts his camera capturing the moment in time with the press of a button. "By the way, I think it's dramatically sexy of us all to have a personal photographer."

"Every tour has some form of photographer," Liam shakes his head, amused, and Louis laughs.

"Listen Nialler, if my presence is what you need to boost your confidence, I'll gladly do my job here."

"Good on you, mate," Niall claps him on the shoulder. "Now when we get out there, I want you to take a batch of photos so superbly immaculate, your grandchildren will cry just looking at them, okay?"

"Your wish is simply my command."

-

The show is breathtaking. Louis can't downplay it on any level; he's never been to a concert that big and something about it made him feel enormous and tiny at the same time. Even though he doesn't know the words to any of the songs, he basks in the ambience of untamed excitement, thanking his lucky stars for the opportunity to be here, front and center in it all. Turns out the best seat in the world is standing at the base of the stage with a camera.

For all the lifelessness Harry displays in his everyday life, he's pure charisma onstage. It would make Louis practically gape in awe if he weren't so busy trying to do his job well. Though it is a struggle to remember to photograph them all equally and not pay hyper-attention to the way Harry flips his hair or pulls at the mic stand. The way he's carelessly hot and he knows it. It makes Louis weak at the knees.

As soon as the final encore plays through and the boys take a bow and thank everyone for coming, Louis ducks past security and slips backstage into the little bay sectioned off for performers to wait in minutes before they go onstage. As soon as he gets there, the boys, headed by Niall, rush in looking sweaty and flushed with excitement.

“You were brilliant,” Louis exclaims immediately pulling them all - even Harry - into a hug. “You killed it.”

“First fucking show!” Niall cheers, shaking Louis’s shoulders. “We’re gonna drink to this one, whoo!”

“You were good, really really good.” Liam seems to have materialized in the corner, and he breaks into a smile, leaning in to kiss Zayn’s cheek passively. Louis hopes they’ve let whatever bygones between them dissipate. He misses having Liam and Zayn around. A duo, rather than two quarreling entities. “As soon as you’re changed, Carter The Great is booked out and ready for your party leisure.”

Louis wrinkles his brow, turning to Zayn as everyone bustles off. “Who is Carter The Great?”

“Not who,” Zayn grins. “What. And tonight, Carter The Great happens to be the site of legendary after-parties.”

As it turns out, Carter the Great is a room. A very large, very noisy room that the hotel leaves available for reservation for things like wedding receptions and proms and extremely over the top tour-launch parties. 

Louis was thinking this would be a quiet sort of drinks-and-FIFA commemoration of their first show. Something restful, but it seems whoever planned this went in the opposite direction. Everyone is here, the whole stage crew, people with the boys’ record label, a couple dozen lucky fans who have signed NDAs and are ready to party with the up and coming hottest boyband. There are rented arcade game units, air hockey tables, a DJ, an open bar. It’s on no level a small production. Apparently to win fan-ticket entry to the party you had to be 21+ because of the alcohol, which Louis notes uncomfortably. Not one of the boys is even legal yet, forget drinking in the states, but that doesn’t seem to stop them, and no one else seems to care about it.

As for Louis, he hangs on the sidelines and sips from whatever the bartender gave him. It’s somehow too sweet and too bitter at the same time, it’s already given him a headache. He tries to keep an eye on all the boys, but all things considered, it seems like a relatively lighthearted event. Maybe because people from management are here, but nobody is doing cocaine off of handrails or having sex on couches. Niall’s playing an aggressive game of table tennis with a couple young women who look like they’re about to fall all over him the second the game is over. Zayn is leaning on Liam’s shoulder, nott quite fondly enough that one would be particularly inclined to note it at a passing glance, but Louis sees the way Zayn’s thumb makes small circles on Liam’s shoulder and how he’s completely pliant and unbothered with him. The quiet comfortability of familiarity with each other. There’s not a lot Louis wouldn’t trade to have that sort of safety with someone. 

The music overhead changes suddenly, a familiar and overplayed tempo that Louis recognizes immediately. _Timber_ by Pitbull. Really? _Really_? How cliched can you get? Louis takes another swig of his drink and makes a face. God this drink is shit, he really needs to find something better to get hammered on if he’s going to make it through this whole party. Louis spins on his heel, turning too quickly, and collides with another solid person instantaneously.

“Fuck,” he inhales sharply, looking up. Harry’s standing in front of him, both of their drinks sloshed down his front. “Shit, I’m so sorry, I’ll find napkins or something-”

“It’s not my favorite shirt,” Harry slurs in reply. He places his hands on either side of Louis’s face, leaning in clumsily. He smells of tequila and his eyes are unfocused and dim. He’s so so drunk right now. “I’ll just take it off. Or you can take it off - can I take your top off, Louis?”

Louis raises his eyebrows. “Here?”

“Yeah. You’re not afraid of doing it in public, are you?”

“I’m as kinky as the next guy, but there are 45 other people in this room and 30 of them can directly see us.” Louis winds his arm around Harry’s shoulder, propping him up. “Let’s go back to your room and get you a clean shirt, yeah?”

“I’m drunk, not stupid,” Harry drawls in his ear. “I know you’re tricking me into going upstairs and falling asleep.”

Well. That’s Louis’s plan busted. “I just think you and tequila are bad news,” he shrugs. “And we’d be better off calling it a night.”

“I’m already bad news all by myself,” Harry wiggles away from Louis. “At least let me have the tequila to make me feel better.”

“Is that supposed to make me feel better about letting you go?”

“It’s my opening show, it’s my party,” Harry knocks their foreheads together gracelessly. He takes Louis’s chin and presses a kiss to his mouth that’s so uncoordinated and sloppy, Louis doesn’t even know if it was meant to be romantic. Maybe Harry is a kiss-your-mates drunk. “I’m leaving now,” he pats Louis’s shoulder and Louis relents as he walks away. He’ll blame it on the kiss for throwing him off. It’s a fucking party and Harry’s fine, he’s walking by himself and being annoyingly touchy on everyone and everything. He normally drunk the way normal teens get at parties, and given that Louis used to do that every weekend, who is he to tell Harry not to?

Besides, he was going to get a much better drink than the one he just dumped on Harry.

The drink helps, Louis can’t deny. And the cute boy who approaches him at the bar and starts chatting him up...he helps too. Although Louis would be lying if he said he wasn’t talking to him halfway because he wants Harry to notice and come over. Not that Harry could lay claim to him in any way but Louis wishes he could. Or the other way around; that he could amble over to Harry and tuck him under his arm and take him off to bed and they’d fall asleep next to each other like fucking Liam and Zayn. God he wants that, it’s humiliating, really. Like Louis lost joy in being his own independent person because somewhere in this room there’s Harry Styles and he’s all Louis wants so much it’s hurting. 

After 20 minutes or so, Louis becomes disenchanted with whatever Cute Boy (he never said his name, Louis doesn’t think) is saying, and he makes his excuses to slip away. He hasn’t seen Harry in a moment and it’s nagging him. He’s starting to feel like leaving him alone and drunk to roam a party wasn’t his best move. Louis sets down his cup on the nearest flat surface and scans the room. No one stands out above the crowd, which Harry usually does, at least a little. Fuck where did he go off to?

People are slipping in and out of the double doors leading to the hallway. The whole floor is booked out with touring crew plus guests, Louis remembers. Niall told him so earlier, he's pretty sure. He's drunk, it's hard to remember. Maybe there's a party continuation of some sort out there, like someone has a designated smoking room. God someone definitely has a designated smoking room and who knows what else they do in there. And Louis just let Harry wander into that on his own, he's so fucking stupid.

Louis opens the heavy double doors and slides into the hall, unnoticed by anyone m it's quieter out here, but still alive with a low rumble of ongoing dialogue. The first room on his right has a door propped ajar, and there is indeed a circle of people propped inside, passing around a joint. But Harry isn't one of them, Louis scans the room twice and he's not anywhere to be seen. Defeated and annoyed, Louis tries the next door down. Locked. Locked. All locked. Of course they're close and locked, it's a fucking hotel, not a commune.

As soon as Louis thinks it, he notices a lone open door at the end of the hall, seemingly the only other room that isn't sealed up for the night. Feeling as if he has nothing to lose, Louis treads over to it and peers inside. It's mostly dark and seemingly empty, until Louis notices the people grouped on the bed, four or five, all evidently preoccupied with each other. _Oh_. 

"Oi, busy," someone snaps huffily. "Shut the door.

"Sorry," Louis mutters. As he turns away, he inadvertently catches a glimpse of the arm draped off the bed, etched with a familiar tattoo. _Harry's fucking tattoos._ Louis spins back around quickly, making sure his eyes aren't deceiving him. That's Harry, that's undoubtedly Harry. And he's passed out. And they're _undressing_ him.

"What the _fuck_ ," Louis spills out, flipping the light. He's too drunk to care about who he offends. "He's fucking passed out, what are you doing?"

There's a man kneeling by Harry, hands fumbling, under his shirt and at his waistband. There are three other people with him, another boy and two young women, all three of them looking alarmed at Louis's sudden arrival. The man pulls his hands away, shrugging.

"Look, he came in here with us for some fun, must have had a bit much to drink and fallen asleep."

"Yeah, at which point you stop fucking touching him," Louis snaps. He feels like his blood is curling with disgust and hot anger. How dare they bring Harry in here stumbling drunk, lay him on that bed and touch him in the dark, how fucking dare they disrespect him when he can't even sit up and say no.

Louis crosses the room without hesitation, pulling Harry up by the waist. "Get the fuck out of this hotel."

"Kid, it's a big misunderstanding, we can talk this one out-"

"Get the fuck out," Louis closes his eyes. "Or I will fucking call the police you piece of shit."

The man in question doesn't look scared, so much as he looks too bothered to continue pursuing the situation. As if he just can't be knackered to sort this out. With a heavy sigh, he rolls off the bed and leaves the room, taking his entourage of sex waifs behind him. As soon as they're gone and out of sight, Louis heaves Harry as upright as he can and drags him back up the hall. Louis's room is...fuck, 152? 154? He hasn't spent much time there, he doesn't even remember the number. He slips the key card from his pocket, taking his chances with room 152, and miraculously, it works.

Louis makes sure to lock the door again behind them - he doesn't trust a single person in this hotel - and tips Harry onto the bed. His shirt is a mess, not just from the drink Louis sloshed all over him earlier, but what Louis can only assume is vomit. Harry didn't fall asleep, he fucking threw up and passed out and that prick of a human being saw it as the perfect opportunity to take advantage.

"Oh Harry," Louis mumbles to himself, lifting the hem of Harry's shirt and trying to pull it over his head gently. Harry arches his back, making a pained face and trying weakly to brush Louis's hands away.

"Don't touch me," he whimpers, drawing his brows together even as his eyes remain closed. "I'm tired, I just wanna sleep, please, I just wanna lay down."

"It's me, it's Louis, it's Louis," Louis breathes, leaning down and touching his forehead to Harry's temple. "I'm just taking your dirty clothes off so you can sleep, I'm not-" Louis breaks off, kissing Harry's hair. "I'm gonna take care of you, I promise."

"Louis," Harry repeats in a low mumble, hands falling back down on either side of him.

"Yeah, it's me, I've got you. No one else, it's just me."

Harry goes limp again. Louis doesn't know if he's fallen asleep or passed out again, but he uses the time to drag his sticky clothes off and cast them aside. In the bathroom, he grabs a towel and wets it with warm water, using it to wipe Harry's clammy skin as best he can. There's no getting him clean without getting him in a shower, but Louis would have to wake him up for that, and it's not his priority. He drops the towel on the nightstand; a mess he can deal with later, and crawls onto the bed next to Harry.

Louis touches his cheek gently, watching him. "Are you awake?"

Harry gives a soft grunt of consciousness, turning over and burying his face in Louis's chest. His breath is warm, and even, and Louis never wants him to move. He can keep him safe here, tucked against him like this.

"I told you to come with me," Louis whispers, closing his eyes.

*It wasn't my fault," Harry whimpers. It's a pitiful utterance, his voice is barely audible, and it doesn't carry defense, but rather unbearable shame. He wants to believe it wasn't his fault, he's trying to convince himself.

"You're right, you're right, it wasn't. It wasn't your fault," Louis smooths Harry's hair back and cradles his head closer, instantly regretting his choice of words. "It was my fault, I never should have let you leave my sight, I should have tried harder. I fucking - I let you down. Again. I'm so sorry, Harry."

Harry reaches up, fumbling to cup Louis's face, and traces his thumb along Louis's cheekbone. Back and forth, back and forth, in the same rhythmic pattern. Even though he doesn't speak, it seems like a silent message.

_We're okay right here. We'll be okay._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I low-key hate this chapter for some reason but it was all necessary content for proceeding with the rest of the story, I just don't like the way it flows, whoops.   
> Annnyyways, you do get your Larry content in there so at least there's that!! And this fic hit 7k reads so thank you all for that 💃
> 
> Next chapter has some spicy new developments so stay tuned for that. 
> 
> Idk if anyone actually reads these notes but if you do- I SEE YOU, I APPRECIATE YOU, HAVE A GREAT DAY/NIGHT

**Author's Note:**

> Hi flower children
> 
> I'd been posting this fic on Wattpad, but I decided to post here as well to see how it does. I can't promise regular updates but hey, we're all in quarantine now so who knows what'll happen! 
> 
> Huge shoutout to my queen Em for being the only reason I was inspired enough to do this in the first place + beta reading my first draft shit and being a constant creative consult and hype woman. Ur the real MVP
> 
> The song for this chapter is "Teen Idle" by MARINA. Kind of sets the tone for the whole book and Harry's character, definitely go listen to that.
> 
> Hope you're all healthy and drinking enough water.  
> Stay inside and wash your hands. Xoxoxo Elle


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